


Nihil: The Calm

by algol_ardhanari



Series: Nihil [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:20:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27172343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/algol_ardhanari/pseuds/algol_ardhanari
Summary: A fresh art graduate returns to his sleepy hometown in Ontario, Canada. Once he arrives, after not being there for a long time, he realizes his friends have changed, and the town has changed as well - probably taking a turn for the worse.An original project that I'd be implementing into a visual novel if I had the skill to make art assets. Very heavily inspired by Echo, the furry visual novel - in fact, you could just take this as a love letter to that.God sleeps beneath the waves.
Series: Nihil [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153550
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. Preface

_Five friends sit at a bench on a hill, overlooking their town. A light snow – the first of winter – fell, painting the landscape a gentle white. On the middle of the bench, a white lion sits with his arms stretched over the back, staring at nothing in particular. Right next to him, a brown bear twiddles his thumbs, anxiety gnawing at his stomach over an appointment he has later that day. Next to the bear a red salamander takes in the beauty of the landscape, his fingertips trembling slightly. On the opposite end of the bench a small red fox has his attention split between the landscape and the lion in the middle, unsure how to feel on the man. Between the red fox and the white lion sits a light brown deer, his mind in many places at once. Thinking about the warmth of the white lion next to him, about the beauty of the landscape, about how to immortalize it in painting, about how bizarre the whole situation feels._

_The lion is the first to leave, and he disappears without a trace. Nobody notices he left. The bear bids his farewell and leaves shortly after, his anxiety growing with each step he takes. The fox notices the lion is gone, gets up, and kicks the leg of the bench in frustration before storming off. The salamander pinches his arm to calm himself and leaves quietly. The deer is left alone._

_None of this happened._


	2. Saturday's Drop

_May the heavens open into infinite mist,  
to heal the wounds of the land.  
May the land twist and turn on itself,  
to conceal its secrets.  
May the secrets ebb, flow and burst outwards,  
consuming all in their path.  
May the paths split and rejoin,  
tied together for all eternity,  
sealed with the eternal punishment  
of a pitiful fool._

_Four fools dance, under a bloody moon,  
puppets of the desires of inscrutable forces.  
Their king lies dead beneath the soil,  
yet his orders remain absolute.  
The branch splits the fools apart and cuts their strings,  
but it can never set them all free at once  
working with the tools given.  
The branch needs to shatter the moon,  
for the cycle to be broken._

_God sleeps beneath the waves._

_~ Unknown_

* * *

Knocking on the window next to me awakens me. Claws against glass, as far as I can tell.

I imagine there is someone on the other side of the glass pane while I fully wake up and realize I’m on a bus, leaning my head on the glass, so that’s not possible. Species with no horns or antlers are lucky – you need to get used to your antlers hitting the glass every now and then if you hope to catch some sleep with your head against the glass. This was different, though. It was a different sound, and it felt like it was coming from outside.

I must have dreamt it. That happens sometimes.

I stretch, grateful that my antlers are still small at this time of the year and I can move around with freedom. The dark blue shirt I’m wearing wasn’t majorly creased in my sleep, which is a good thing since I don’t think I will have access to a clothes iron in a while. No real better way of celebrating graduating art school than falling asleep on a bus, I guess. Patting my chest and lap, I realize something is missing, before I remember what it is – the poetry book I was reading lies on the ground between my sneakers, and I’m glad that I didn’t step on it accidentally. I pick it up and look out the window, not sure what I’m even trying to look at, because there’s nothing.

Nothing upon nothing. I’m glad that we have these bus services that go between cities, so I can go from Toronto to Sudbury, but they’re mind-numbingly boring. As spring begins in earnest, the snow melts away and the fields begin getting a coating of greenery, the occasional evergreen forests looking a lot livelier than they do when it’s colder. Of course, they probably won’t face any real heat. It’s Canada, after all, and I’m heading north, so things are going to get even chillier. For a mercy, Sudbury isn’t my final destination.

Checking my position on the map application on my phone, I see we’re almost there. The bus stops shortly after, at the station, and I get off without a hitch, fetching my luggage – two travel bags. I know that my journey isn’t over yet, but I can’t do anything right now. I can only wait until my ride arrives, but considering the timing of his last message, that shouldn’t take long.

I look around. I remember how huge and imposing Sudbury looked and felt the first time I set foot in it. My hometown was very small and not heavily urbanized, and the town I moved to after – the tiny settlement I’m headed to now – was only a bit better, having a population around a few hundreds instead of some dwindling dozens. Sudbury, a big, menacing city, was overwhelming. However, after having lived in Toronto for four years, while I studied, it feels a lot more manageable – home-like, almost. Comfortable.

I don’t linger in those thoughts too much, and opt to look around for the car which I know will take me home. It doesn’t take long for it to appear, maybe just five minutes late compared to our agreed upon meeting time. Nothing major. I swipe a lock of hair away from my face, tidying up my haircut, as I notice the driver staring straight at me, a completely blank expression on his face.

Joshua. I smile and wave at him. He simply nods and pulls over, stopping his car – a black, sleek-looking hybrid – and opening the trunk. I can tell it’s the car he’s owned for a few years now. No need to upgrade if it works, huh. The white lion steps out of the car, scratching some hair on his fluffy black mane and looking at me. He pushes his glasses up with one hand, giving me an incredibly subtle, thin smile. He walks over and stretches his hand at me for a handshake.

“Josh…” I ignore the outstretched hand and run up to him, going in for a hug. He’s about four inches taller than me, so any hugging of him requires me to bury my face in his ample, muscular chest, and the fact that he’s wearing a tank top doesn’t help matters at all. It takes him a few seconds to return the hug, like he’s processing the situation. Breaking the hug, I go towards my bags—

“Stop.” He steps forward, grabbing both bags and lifting them up, carrying them over to the trunk. Showoff. “You already survived four years of art degree. Least I could do is help you with your bags, you know.”

“You just want people to see how strong you are, Josh, don’t lie to me.”

I chuckle, but he doesn’t return the laughter. Still, he’s smiling, so that’s probably a good thing, right? “Just felt that after four hours of bus ride you might want some help with physical tasks, but I see that isn’t the case.”

Still, he finishes putting the bags into the trunk and closes it. “Hey, uh, thanks.”

He just grunts, opening the passenger side door and nodding towards it for me to get on.

I enter the car, close the door and fasten my seatbelt. “Like, for the bags, and for driving all the way here just to bring me home.”

The other man is already on the driver seat and has already put his own seatbelt on, checking the mirrors one last time. He doesn’t even look at me when replying. “Of course. Not like there’s anything else I could be doing on a Sunday morning.”

I chuckle. “Stop, you’re gonna make me feel bad…”

Wordlessly, he turns on the ignition and, after a few seconds, starts driving. “That isn’t a sarcastic comment. I had no plans for today, so this at least gives me _something_ to do with myself, even if said something is ultimately a menial task. Besides, it’s not like you really had any other choice, right? Someone had to bring you here from Sudbury. The taxi fare would kill you, and no buses go over to our town.” His tone is flat and matter-of-fact, just what I’d expect from him.

“That’s true. But, still, thanks.”

Another grunt, and then silence. After a bit of driving, once more, civilization gives way to open fields and forests. I’m a bit tired, so I rest my head back and close my eyes…

“By the way, you can plug your phone into the aux cord. Unless you’re just that interested in spending an hour in a car in silence.” He turns the car, heading into a narrower road.

“Oh, uh…” I fish my phone out of my pocket and plug it into the cord, selecting a song. I hesitate a bit, before finally tapping on something. Some gentle indie rock. “Is this good?”

Joshua doesn’t reply for a few seconds. Then, he puts on a slight smile, that I somehow feel doesn’t really touch his eyes. “Doesn’t really matter.”

“Do you like it, at least?”

He sighs. “I don’t know why you ask me that. You already know that I don’t click with the stuff you listen to. I know your taste in music perfectly, and I don’t like it.” He squeezes his eyes shut for a second and breathes in again. “Not that I have to like it, mind. It’s not bad. It’s just not my thing.”

“Right, yeah… I just wanted to put on something that you might like, to make the ride shorter for you too.” I don’t quite feel bad now, but I sure don’t feel good either.

“Appreciate the effort.” He sighs. “Not really necessary. Having you there is enough to make the ride more pleasant.”

I almost blush at the comment. “Aw, are you flirting with me, big guy?”

He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. “I don’t know, am I?” His words come out half like speech, half like a sigh. The completely flat tone to his voice tells me that he’s joking. Probably. It’s hard to read Joshua sometimes.

The ride continues in indie silence for about twenty minutes, as I struggle to find what to say. I can’t tell if Joshua is trying to think of something to say as well, or if he simply doesn’t mind the silence at all. Perhaps the latter. He cleanly turns the car, avoiding every pothole on the road, clearly an expert at driving this direction. I heard that his work had him taking trips to Sudbury often, but didn’t know how true that was. I guess this is my evidence.

“Hey.” He speaks up.

“Huh?”

“I feel maybe you wanted to have some conversation while we took this car ride. Sorry for not saying anything.”

Well, that’s strange. “Oh, it’s alright. You driving me there is good enough.”

“Mm.” A turn into a different, narrower road. It’s tough – I’m trying to think of a conversation topic to fill the empty space but nothing comes to me. Is the silence bothering him? Should I be saying something? I don’t think it used to be like this, back when I was still living in the town. Did he talk more? Was I the one that used to talk more?

“Haha, well, you’re not really doing much to fix the situation!” I chuckle and try to poke him with my elbow, the car seatbelt making the motion somewhat uncomfortable.

A single, half-hearted snort leaves Joshua. “I guess I’m not doing much to fix it, huh. My fault, then.” He takes a deep breath. “Anything you want to talk about, then?”

I think for a few seconds. “Er… Oh, I got something!”

He arches an eyebrow.

“How are things back home? I’ve been gone for a bit and haven’t talked with any of you much – sorry about that, by the way, the final year of this career has been hell.”

“Riveting topic.” He turns the car slowly. “Business as usual, for the most part. I only really keep up with the gang nowadays. Tyler is still writing articles for that site, Michael is studying some postgraduate thing on his field and being a teacher’s assistant, Brett… is holding on, working at that grocery store chain that arrived in town a few years ago.”

“Oh, huh, he’s still working there?”

“Yes.” He’d had that job for a while now.

“Is his salary higher, since he’s been there a bit?”

Joshua pauses, seeming to mull over the question. “Maybe. I wouldn’t know – I’ve never worked there.”

“And you’ve never asked him?” I kick myself for how aggressive the question sounds.

“People don’t just go up to other people and ask them how much cash they earn, y’know.” He chuckles. “If I worked there and was trying to form a union, maybe, but I don’t.”

“Huh… I see. I guess that makes sense.”

“Mm.” Another low grunt of acknowledgement.

“How about you?”

Silence, for a few seconds. “I’m sorry?” No emotion, like he wasn’t listening to what I said.

“I asked how you’re doing, Josh, like… how things have been going with you. You talked about everyone besides yourself.”

Another pause. “Huh. Guess I did.” He keeps driving. The vegetation around us grows thicker – a familiar sight, in some regards. “Must have overlooked it because there’s nothing you don’t already know. Freelancing gigs, fitness, getting around. That’s all there is to me.”

“Oh…” Well. “Don’t you think that’s kind of a depressing way to put it?”

He stays silent, staring ahead. “Is it? Maybe it is. Oh well.”

Something’s up with him, but I don’t feel like prodding too much. I turn to the window, as the vegetation clears up a bit. “Hey, can you stop around here a bit?”

“The usual spot?”

“Yeah. I know we’re close but I just wanna look at it.”

“Mm.” Smoothly, he drives for a couple more minutes, then turns to some vegetation off the road. He parks the car and turns it off. I open the door and step out, the cold bite of spring hitting me directly. A few feet away from us is an empty bench that’s still mostly whole, and further from that is a cliff, barred off by guardrails. I approach, hearing the sound of the other door opening and closing, as Joshua walks up to me. I lean over the rail, looking at the town, as he stands next to me.

The small town of New Blackden is exactly as sleepy as it was when I left it four years ago to study. It feels even emptier now, since I’ve been living in the bustling activity of Toronto for all that time. Yet, it survives, with its few hundred inhabitants mostly families that have lived here forever. It survives being largely self-sufficient and having business ties with Sudbury. Fishing at the lake whenever it’s not frozen over, logging in the nearby forests (with specific environmental protections in place), producing coal and mining in some cave systems nearby are basically all the local industries the town has. Largely self-sufficient, I suppose, even if it’s just about the most boring implementation of the concept of self-sufficiency. I can’t help thinking that I’ll enjoy leaving this place and going to live somewhere a bit less dead – like Sudbury.

Yet, there’s a sort of beauty to it. It’s clearly built taking into account the lake and the nearby forests, and away from this cliff I’m standing on, in such a way that makes it perfect to look at from here. You can see the whole town from up here, in its small extension. Cozy and warm in the winter, pretty in spring through autumn – specially when the cold sunlight hits the lake just right, glimmering beautiful colors upon the eyes of the beholder… A gorgeous resort town, if it decided to capitalize on its beauty. Wasted potential, in its current state – a slowly withering flower in the wilderness.

Joshua leans over the railing next to me, and it creaks ever so slightly. “Are you thinking about something?”

I blink a couple of times. “Oh, uh, nothing, just thinking about the town.”

“Mm. You get this look on your face when you’re thinking about something, James.” He looks at me, half-lidded yellow eyes peering at me, emotionless. “I know you get lost in your thoughts a lot, but sometimes I can tell there’s something more going on in that head of yours.”

“Oh… do I?” I scratch the back of my head. “I, uh, I didn’t know.”

He blinks slowly, and a small smile creeps up his face. “I guess I’m just observant, then.” He turns away, but I swear I see a slight blush on his cheeks before he does. Maybe the sunlight. I think he doesn’t leave the house much. “If you’re done here, I’d rather get you home quickly.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess I’ll have to come up some other time to paint the town.”

“Using your art degree, I see.” He starts heading back to the car. “Is it really pretty enough that you’d want to immortalize it in a painting?”

With one hand on the railing, I cast a final glance at the town. “Yeah.”

“Mm.” He pauses, looking at his car. “I guess it looks prettier if you don’t actually live here.”

I don’t know how to respond to that.

I don’t get to respond either, as he’s already walking back to the car. I follow shortly behind, hopping in, and we drive off. The town is about ten minutes away – just need to drive down the side of the cliff and we’ll be there. I think Joshua’s house isn’t that far from the entrance of the town anyways. Somehow, I feel awkward – like that last comment was unusually weighty, even for him, and I don’t know how to tackle it. From how he’s looking straight ahead and his attitude hasn’t changed at all, maybe he doesn’t see it that way. Maybe I’m overthinking things.

Before long, we pull up to his house. Startlingly big. Two stories, and easily big enough to hold a whole family – not just two parents and a kid, but more people. I don’t know what he needs all that space for, and he doesn’t really seem to give it much use either, if I have learned anything about him. The garage doors open at the push of a button on his car keys, and we drive in, the doors closing behind us slowly and smoothly. I unplug my phone from the aux cord and step out of the car, breathing in. “Fresh garage air.”

“I try to keep it fresh. Sometimes I have to do some mechanical work here, though, on the car. Can’t help it.” He’s already stepped out and closed the door, while the trunk’s door slowly slides up.

“Has the car given you much trouble?”

“No. I don’t use it a lot unless it’s for work or the occasional trip. It’s mostly checking it out to see if it’s in proper working order before using it. Have to do that every time I go to use it after a while of not doing so.” He stretches, walking towards the trunk.

I follow. “Oh, that’s good, then. Right? Not you not using the car much, just the fact that it hasn’t given you trouble.”

“I understand what you mean.” He pulls out the bags from the trunk, before closing it. “I guess your art degree doesn’t include public speaking classes?” He chuckles.

“Hey, don’t be mean.” I go to grab one of the bags, but he’s already pulling both of them. Is he showing off or just trying to be helpful?

“Stop me, then.” He keeps walking, going into the house proper. The tile floor is a familiar sensation under my sneakers. Already somewhere with internal heating, I sigh. Setting the bags down in the middle of the living room, he takes a deep breath, before taking off his jacket, revealing a black tank top underneath that hugs his muscles very neatly. Some eye candy he is. “Well, here we are. Your home for the next couple of days, until you decide where you want to go. I’m assuming you don’t have like… a sleeping bag or anything?”

“I just graduated, Josh, I don’t have much of anything in those bags besides my clothes and some art supplies. I… don’t even have my degree. I won’t get it until the graduation ceremony.”

“Huh, that’s interesting.”

“But to answer your question…”

Before I can say anything, I notice his ears twitch. Even if his eyes are still looking at me, his attention is elsewhere. His ears crane around slowly, before they’re facing a door behind me. Feline predator attitudes are so weird to me. I don’t have time to realize what’s happening before he steps forward, grabs me by the arm and yanks me away, as the door behind me bursts open—

Out come out our other three friends, stumbling to the ground. The youngest-sounding voice cries out, buried by two men larger than him. “Agh! Fuck! Get the fuck off! Ty! Dude!”

“S-sorry! You told me to open!” A bashful brown bear with blue eyes, chubby, hastily scrambles away from the pile. He gets up, already stretching his hands towards the group to try and help people out, apologetically.

“Not while we’re all leaning against the fucking door!” I see one body, but it’s not the source of the noise.

“Ow…” The second person gets up – a red salamander, rubbing his buttocks through his brown pants. He straightens out the light blue shirt he’s wearing – I note the top is unbuttoned and the sleeves are rolled up. “Now that’s an ordeal…” He puts his hands on his back, stretching until something pops. “O-ow…”

“I-I’m sorry!” The bear bows, noticing he couldn’t help anyone get up and deciding to do something with his already outstretched hands. “I’m not _that_ heavy…”

“Heavy where it counts, big guy.” The salamander snickers, as the bear lets out a small sound of dissatisfaction.

Still on the ground and facing down, the last person in the pile groans – a red fox, shorter than any of us by a fair bit, but also wider than several of us except perhaps Joshua in muscle. Wow, he beefed up a lot. “Why don’t you two go back into that bathroom and make out, since you’re flirting so hard? Fucking…” He pushes himself upwards in one swift motion, dusting the red t-shirt he’s wearing and looking down. “You’re damn lucky I don’t wear glasses that could have broken, you hear?”

“I’m so sorry, Michael!” The brown bear puts his hands on the fox’s shoulders.

The fox slowly looks at the hands, then at the man, a baffled expression on his face. “…what are you doing?”

“Oh, you’re—you’re already up, right…”

The fox stares for a couple more seconds before erupting into laughter. “You’re lucky you’re cute whenever you do all this dumb shit, you know?”

The bear blushes and looks away. “S-stop…”

I look at the man holding my arm, as his grip slowly goes limp. He says nothing, breathing slowly while looking at the spectacle unfolding before his eyes. Looking back at the group, I clear my throat. The bear jumps a little, the salamander raises his eyebrows and looks at us, and the fox clicks his tongue.

The fox is the first one to speak. “Well, surprise ruined, on account of Tyler’s thick and juicy ass.” The bear blushes and mutters something under his breath that I don’t catch but that Joshua surely could. “Anyways, ‘sup. Welcome home.”

“Oh, yeah, hi!” I nod at him. “I didn’t know you guys would be here to greet me when I arrived, that’s a nice detail!”

“…I didn’t know either.” Joshua slowly speaks up next to me. “How… did you get in? When did you get in?”

“About half an hour ago, and you gave me a key to your house, remember?” Michael speaks like it’s the most casual thing in the world for him.

Joshua slowly sighs. “I… think I do.”

Michael looks back at the other two. “Hey, are you greeting the dude or not?”

Tyler gasps.

“Aight, you greet him then, Brett.”

“Oh!” The salamander waves at me and steps forward, giving me a brief hug. His skin is about as smooth as I remember it, and slightly colder than the fur of us mammals, but nothing unbearable. “Good to have you back, dude!”

“Yeah, it’s good to be back, too!”

Brett Taylor.

Brett’s a friend. We don’t have as much in common as I do with Tyler or Joshua, but he’s still a very cool guy to be around. I met him around the same time I met everyone else – since Joshua basically grafted me into the friend group, all on his own. It was a good move, I feel.

“Okay, enough of that.” Michael puts his hand on Brett’s shoulder and gently pushes him to a side, to stand in front of me. “Where’s my hug, dude?” He stretches his arms in front, a smirk on his face.

“You never change, huh, Michael?” No matter. I hug him anyways. He’s really gotten buff in my absence, and he gives me a tight squeeze, forcing a squeak out of me—

Then, he slaps my butt and takes a couple of steps back, chuckling.

Michael Kim.

Another friend. Probably the strongest personality in the group – and also just the strongest person, period, if his beefy build and tight red shirt are any indication. I wonder if he can beat out Joshua anyways. Maybe not.

“Good to see that art degree also gave you a nice ass, dude.” As Michael arches an eyebrow, Joshua simply sighs. This isn’t a rare occurrence – Michael is gay, and isn’t scared of letting everyone around him know. Both Michael and Joshua are gay, but they have wildly different vibes about it.

Tyler shuffles, looking at the ground. “Um…”

Michael looks back at him. “Oh, yeah, you finally ready? Go.”

Tyler steps ahead, looking down at me while stretching down his blue t-shirt, which rode up his belly a bit. He suddenly grabs me and holds me tight, in a hug that lifts me off the ground. “I missed you so much, dude—“

He lets go once he hears me squeak from the lack of air. That’s two ribcage-breaking hugs in a row.

“Oh, I’m sorry…” He bashfully looks down as Michael groans.

Tyler Moore.

Another friend. While Michael is the strongest personality in the group, Tyler has to be the weakest. Meek and very gentle. Stands in stark contrast to his build – the tallest person in the group, even taller than Joshua, and with a stocky, girthy build. I think I see a bit of muscle beneath his fat, but it’s hard to tell. Someone with this sort of frame has no business trying to make himself small and invisible, and yet…

“C’mon, he isn’t dead, is he?” Michael grabs the back of Tyler’s shirt and pulls back, the bear taking a couple of steps back. “Anyways, welcome home, all that shit. Did Joshua catch you up on how things have been around here during the car ride?”

“Um… well, he told me not much had happened. Tyler’s still a games journalist, Brett works at that supermarket chain, you’re a teacher’s assistant, he’s still freelancing…”

“Right, so he caught you up on everything. Nothing else goes on here.” He winks, and I can’t tell if there’s some bitterness to that comment.

“Hey, enough about us! Blackden’s still a sleepy town, nothing new there!” Brett pipes up. “I’m more interested in hearing how you did in the big city, dude! Made any new cool friends?”

“You’ve got a point…” I think for a few seconds. “Not much, really. A few colleagues, but I didn’t really make _friends,_ I wouldn’t say. The roommates were cool, I guess?”

“Any new exciting experiences to talk about?”

I don’t know if he wants me to talk about the oft-rumored college dorm experimentation between boys. Why’d he want to hear about that? “Well, I learned a bunch of art and painting techniques, and the ways in which I hate some of them?”

“Got a hot new girlfriend to introduce to us…?” He wiggles an eyebrow, pushing his elbow into my side.

“Yeah, about that…”

I guess they don’t know. It makes sense, because I never told them. I know that there’s a _big_ stereotype surrounding art majors – and deer as well – but… I did end up discovering I’m not straight while I was there. Who’d have thought that all my relationships with girls failed and I felt nothing because I was more interested in their exes. Some of my roommates really opened my eyes to things, and I’m gay now, I guess. I’m not afraid of telling them. There’s two out gay guys in the group in Joshua and Michael, and Tyler gives me some _really_ weird vibes every now and then, so a third gay wouldn’t be too out of place, right? Maybe it’s time to tell them.

“Don’t you think that’s kind of a heavy thing to ask someone that just survived five hours of car ride? He probably wants to rest.” Joshua pipes up. Maybe it’s _not_ time to tell them, I guess.

“Oh, yeah, you’re right. Sorry, dude!” Brett beams at me.

“Ah, it’s alright. I _am_ a bit tired, I guess… but nothing too bad.” I don’t want to let it out, but a yawn creeps up me. “Uh, sorry.”

Michael snorts. “Best to let you get a lot of rest, then. You’ve got a busy two days ahead of you, after all.”

“Right, checking out you guys’ houses and all…”

Since I’m staying here for a few months and don’t have where to stay – since my parents moved out and went to the opposite side of the country – I’m staying with one of them. I’m lucky to have such good friends – they all offered to let me stay at their house, and I just have to decide who I’m staying with, but first I need to actually go to their houses to see what things are like there. Just staying here, while I save up money to buy a house near my workplace in Sudbury. Having all that commute time is probably going to kill me, but what can you do.

Michael looks at me for a couple of seconds. “Yeah. That.” He turns to Joshua. “You didn’t tell him about the party, did you?”

Joshua blinks a couple of times, mirroring my confusion. “…oh. I think I didn’t. I must have forgotten. Sorry.”

Michael snorts. “Thinking too hard about dick to remember?”

Joshua just sighs.

“Um…” Tyler steps forward. “Yeah, we’re doing a small party for you, James! Since you graduated and all, and you’re coming back here, we felt it’d be nice to do something for you. Something small – just us five.”

“Oh!” My face must have lit up, because Tyler’s face lights up at my reaction. “Oh, that sounds nice, yeah!”

“We’re, um, driving to that cliff overlooking town, and we’re bringing a cake and something to drink and just… hanging out there. We couldn’t really make bigger plans, but I guess you’re happy with this?”

“Yeah, it’s fine! It sounds fun.” It _is_ a pretty small plan, but I guess I’ve matured some, because that doesn’t bother me at all. Just a small gathering with friends sounds nice.

“Bit of a sausage party, huh?” Brett crosses his arms. “Though I guess two of the people present are into that, ha!” He laughs at his own joke.

That does draw a chuckle out of Michael. “Cut that shit out before I hate crime you, Brett.”

“Ahaha—ow…” He grimaces slightly, a smile still on his face.

I try to stifle it, but another yawn leaves me. “Sorry.”

“Well, damn, if we’re that boring to you, just say it, man.” Michael smirks.

“Don’t be so mean to him, Michael, he’s just tired…” Tyler being as soft as always.

“I know, I know, geez…” He rolls his eyes. “I’m not gonna bite his head off, _mom._ ” He shakes his head side to side before looking at me again. “Anyways, since the nanny here doesn’t want me bullying you, I think I’m gonna leave you alone. Was only here to greet you once you arrived anyways – the fun stuff can wait until a couple of days from now.” He gently punches my shoulder. “Aight, deuces.” With that, he walks out, opening the front door and leaving.

“I think I’m leaving too.” Brett is the next one to speak. “I’ve got another shift later today and I should be getting ready for that… was nice to see you again, though! Looking forward to the sausage party!” I question this man’s heterosexuality every day. He waves at me and I nod as he walks out, slightly trailing behind Michael.

“Oh, man… with both of them gone I probably shouldn’t stick around, huh?” Tyler pushes his index fingers together with a worried expression on his face. “Please get a lot of rest, James. You finished your degree and survived a five-hour car ride on top of that! You should get a lot of rest for that.” He gives me a small hug, not lifting me off the floor this time, before heading towards the door, almost stumbling and falling. “Bye!”

As they walk out, Tyler locks the door behind himself. Joshua sighs, and I remember that he’s still there. “Hey, everything alright?”

“Mm? Yeah, I just drove two hours and I’m a bit tired.”

“Oh, right, you had to do the same trip twice. Sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

Joshua stretches and his tank top rides upwards, revealing a bit of well-chiseled midriff. I probably shouldn’t be looking, but I can’t help noticing the tufts of black fur going from his navel downwards. Fully accepting that I’m gay and having four variously attractive guys as my friends is going to be the death of me, but here, right here and right now, Joshua is the one catching my attention right now, and he’s really fine. It’s uncanny, almost – perfect like a model or a porn star. Handsome, tall, and beefy.

He catches me staring and stretches his tank top downwards. “Sorry that you had to see that. Maybe I should buy bigger tank tops.”

“What? Oh, no, it’s fine.” I try to play it casual, and don’t know how much success I have at it.

From how he stares at me for a couple more seconds, probably poorly. Still, he says nothing, and just turns to the kitchen. “Right. You want anything to drink?” He moves behind the bar and looks down at something.

“Oh, I guess some water is fine.”

Slowly, he looks up at me. “Huh. I was talking alcohol.”

That takes me aback a bit. “Sorry? Uh… I don’t really drink, so… maybe a really light cocktail?”

“Virgin cocktail or the real thing, then?”

I stare at him blankly.

“I’m asking if you want something with alcohol in it.” His cold and calculating gaze while talking about alcohol is a bit jarring.

“Oh, a bit of alcohol is fine, then—“

As I say that, he produces a cocktail shaker from behind the bar and opens it in one swift move. He produces a series of bottles from beneath the counter. Some are unmarked, others aren’t. Three in total. I don’t recognize one of them, but I’m pretty sure one is just juice… and the other is vodka. He produces a shot glass and pours vodka in it until it’s full, before putting the contents in the shaker. Then, he follows with the two other bottles, doing the same thing, twice for each bottle – one part alcohol, four parts juice? He closes the shaker and vigorously shakes it in the air, and I can’t help noticing his arm muscles flexing each time he moves. Finally, he produces a tall glass, puts some ice cubes in it, and pours the contents of the shaker in it – an opaque drink with a gentle orange color. Inviting, almost. “One Sex on the Beach, for you.” He puts a metallic straw in it.

“One _what?_ ”

“Well, almost. I don’t have any peach schnapps, and I made it deliberately lighter, since you don’t really drink. Drink slowly and let the ice melt a bit, so the water goes into your system.”

I slowly grab the cup and give it a sip… it’s delicious, actually. Sweet, but with a slight alcoholic bite. “This is pretty good… why do you know how to make this? Watching you work was like watching a professional bartender…” I sit at one of the stools in front of the bar – I guess it fits the situation.

Joshua snorts. “Maybe. I just have some wide interests and learn new things in my free time, is all. Turns out I’m good at shaking things hard, I guess.”

Grabbing the drink with both hands, I keep sipping at it. “Mm… this is really good. Thanks, Josh.”

He nods.

“Aren’t you going to drink anything, yourself?”

He blinks a couple of times. Then, he takes the shot glass, fills it to the brim with vodka… and then drinks it directly. He then does it again. After the second shot glass, he lets out a weird sound – somewhat like a growl, probably processing the bitterness and the burning sensation of the raw, highly concentrated alcohol going down his throat. “There.”

“Oh… wow.”

He starts cleaning up the shaker. “I don’t really do cocktails, sorry. If I drink alcohol, I take it straight.”

“How manly.” I chuckle.

“I guess it is. Whenever I’m in a club, if a guy’s trying to appear more masculine, he drinks alcohol straight up, to impress anyone watching…” A pause. “No idea why they do that. It tastes like shit and they look like shit grimacing while it goes down their throats. It’s the opposite of impressive.”

“Then why did you just…”

He looks at me with a tired look on his face and a gentle smile. “Because if I drink, I’m drinking to get drunk, James. That’s why I don’t drink beer either – doesn’t act fast enough.”

“I’m not really sure what to say to that, or if I should be concerned.”

He chuckles. “Then don’t say anything. You shouldn’t worry either – I’m not an alcoholic. I don’t drink often at all. The few times I’m at a club, I drink to get tipsy and fun, but I don’t go to clubs often either. I guess I’m just boring like that.”

I keep sipping at my cocktail, feeling some warmth rushing to my face. I’m really not used to drinking – meanwhile, Joshua seems to be perfectly fine. “Hey…”

After washing and putting the shaker to dry, Joshua turns to me. “…you’re already tipsy.”

I take a deep breath. “Not quite, but I can feel it hitting me a little bit.”

“I’m not sure what level of lightweight that is.”

“You don’t feel anything? You took two shots in a row without pausing or drinking any water…”

He puts his fingers against his neck for a second. “Nope, no change.”

“That’s incredible…”

“What’s incredible is that one shot of vodka diluted with four shots of fruity juice is making you blush. You really don’t drink at all, huh.” He arches an eyebrow. He looks past me, and that’s when I notice it’s getting late and the sun is already setting. Without saying a word, he goes over to the windows and closes the curtains, flicking the lights on. I finish my drink, playing with the ice cubes with the straw a bit.

“Hey, Josh?”

“Mm?”

“I’m staying on the couch, right?”

“Yes. Nowhere else for you to stay right now, and you’re only staying here a couple of days before you move in with one of the others anyways.”

“Okay, just confirming. I’m kinda hungry…”

He goes over to his fridge and takes out two plastic containers with meals already in them – a portion of vegetables, some rice, and some tuna mixed with some sauce. “Dinner. I’ll heat them up in the microwave.”

That’s interesting. “You just have meals in your kitchen ready to go?”

He puts both containers inside the microwave and sets it to heat for a minute. “Meal prep. Everything is already portioned and I do it all in one go at the start of the week, so I don’t have to spend time cooking the other days.”

“Don’t you get bored of eating the same thing every day?”

He pauses. “…I don’t really care for that, no. It’s healthy and it’s food and that’s… all that really matters to me.”

We stand in silence while the microwave heats up our meals. Once they’re done, Joshua takes them out, and puts mine in front of me, producing a fork from a drawer. He takes my glass and fills it with water. Then, he opens his container, grabs another fork, and starts to eat standing up. He eats… pretty quick. “Hey, don’t you want to sit down?”

He looks at me for a couple of seconds while chewing, before swallowing. “…why?”

“I don’t know… I just feel standing and eating looks a bit uncomfortable?” I scratch the back of my head, not sure where I was going with that.

He blinks a few times. “I finish eating very quickly, so it doesn’t matter to me.” With that, he keeps eating, and I guess that’s the end of that.

He finishes his meal before long, washing the plastic container after. It takes me a bit longer to finish my food. It’s good, though maybe the rice is slightly bland. The moment I finish, he takes the container and fork from me and washes them – efficient. I finish my water, and he washes that glass too. I can’t help yawning once more.

“You must be tired.”

“Lil bit…”

“Right. I’m going to go back to my room and work on some stuff, so please don’t bother me. I think this is the end of the day for you. You can use the bathroom down here – the one everyone burst out of – to brush your teeth and do whatever, and there’s a blanket on the couch already for you to use.” He yawns as well.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep?”

“No. I have to work on something, and I have to finish it today.” He clicks his tongue, and then starts walking off. “Alright, good night.”

“Hey, wait.”

He already has a foot on the staircase going up when he stops and turns to me. “Yeah?”

“Don’t I get a good night hug? I know I’m only staying here for two nights, but I feel weird if I don’t properly say good night to my friends.”

He takes a deep breath, sighs, and comes up to me to give me a hug. His embrace is comforting – even if he’s big and strong, I don’t feel he’s going to yank me off the ground like Tyler or crush my ribs like Michael. As my face sinks into his chest, I catch a bit of his scent – some soap, some cologne, a teensy bit of sweat. It feels like home.

He breaks the hug, looking down at how I closed my eyes. “Don’t get too comfortable between those, James.”

“Oh, sorry.” I let go, clearing my throat and hoping he doesn’t notice me blushing – chances are that he does, because lions’ senses are just that good.

“Alright, good night then.” He turns around and leaves. After a few seconds, I feel a door softly clicking closed, somewhere above me.

And I realize how strange the vibe is here. Joshua was already cold and distant before, but this is pretty weird. It’s like he doesn’t even want to talk to me, and yet, here he is, keeping me in his house and feeding me, making me cocktails… I wonder if something happened to him to get his mood like this.

I yawn again and realize it’s probably not the time nor the place to think about that. I grab my toothbrush from my bag – still in the middle of the living room – and brush my teeth. The blanket Joshua set out for me is soft and black, making a contrast with the white couch. I flick the lights off, put a cushion under my head, and try to go to sleep.

Joshua Roderick.

The first one of my friends. He introduced me to everyone else, when I was lost here and didn’t know anyone, after just moving here. I guess I owe a great part of what I have in life right now to him. He’s pretty cold and distant most of the time, but I can tell he cares – he takes care of everyone. He’s basically the group’s dad… and I think he’s the oldest, too. Not by a lot, but it’s there.

He’s acting strange, though. I wonder what’s up with that.

* * *

…

Chains around my neck weigh me down. I look down – I’m naked, sitting on an infinite white ground without depth. Touching the chains on my neck, I realize they stretch out in four different directions. When I look in those four directions, I see my friends – I see their backs, rather, as they sit, turned away from me. They seem to be naked as well, but I don’t see anything. Tyler, Michael, Brett and Joshua have the other end of the chain wrapped around their necks for some reason. Joshua has the ends of some chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles as well.

I try to speak, but no sound comes from my mouth. They all get up and start walking, going in opposite directions from each other. The chains around my neck are wrapped taut, being pulled in every direction, and I begin to choke. Though I can’t breathe, they all continue walking without stopping. Something must give. The chains must break, or my neck must snap. My body starts going cold, and I can’t feel my fingertips anymore. The infinite white landscape fades as well.

I hear a snap, like a branch breaking, and then there’s only darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may now see a side story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27219511/chapters/66490609


	3. Sunday's Chains (Part 1)

I stir awake, being greeted by the sight of the white rooftop above me bathed in cold morning light. Then again, at this latitude, all natural light is cold, I guess. Miraculously, the blanket I went to sleep with is still on my body – usually I stir so much in my sleep that I’m awakened in the middle of the night shivering because the blankets are on the ground. Not this time, I suppose. Curious, since I’m not even sleeping on a bed – I’m just on a couch with a blanket on top of me.

I look to the side, at the window, and even though the curtains are still closed, I can tell it’s probably already morning. Maybe 8, even 9 AM. It feels so good to be able to sleep in a bit, now that I don’t have classes to worry about… of course, I’ll have to worry about a day job instead. Adult things, I guess. I throw the blanket off and look for my socks and loafers, putting them on before getting up – don’t want my bare feet touching the tile. I never liked that sensation, and New Blackden is even colder than Toronto in the mornings. I’m really living in the wrong place if I don’t like the cold, I guess, but the quality of life is good so I guess I’ll get over it. Joshua’s house is heated, as well.

Joshua…

I get up and look around. From where I’m standing I can’t see anyone or hear anything. Is Joshua still asleep? I step out of the living room to stand in front of the staircase that leads to the second floor – where his room is. His room and probably other things, I doubt his bedroom is the whole floor, but I’ve never been up there. Standing down here, with no shirt and in blue boxers, I feel very defenseless. Maybe I should go back and put on more of yesterday’s clothes before walking up?

…

I can’t help feeling like I’m being observed, somehow, and it’s not really a familiar, welcome sensation. Something forces me to take a step ahead, cautiously—

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

I jump, a small yelp leaving my mouth as the voice behind me speaks. Joshua. When I turn around, nobody is there… which is strange, because I swear the voice sounded like it was right behind me. He wasn’t yelling, either. “J-Josh!”

A pause. “Huh? Just come here.” The voice sounds normal this time, coming from the kitchen. I turn to look and, indeed, Joshua is there, facing the stove. He is spreading butter on a frying pan and putting it at low heat while he fetches eggs from a cabinet.

He’s also shirtless. I approach and notice that at least he’s wearing pants – grey sweatpants – but he’s barefoot as well. He isn’t looking at me, and only turns around after a few more seconds, mug in hand. It’s steaming. Probably coffee. His gaze takes a couple of seconds to focus on me, and it almost feels like he’s looking through me. “Morning. Looks like you slept well.”

I blink a couple of times, and hands go to my head, patting my hair down. “Yeah, I… _just_ woke up… hey, like you have any place to judge. Your mane is a mess.”

He snorts. “Of course. I just got up from bed as well, and I haven’t brushed my hair or showered yet.” He lifts the cup to his lips and takes a long sip. I try not to think of how his biceps flex when he lifts it up. “Feeling a bit… I forget the word in English. Trashy? Messy? Something like that, I guess.”

A yawn escapes me. “Sorry… what time is it?”

“Should be about half past eight now.”

I sigh. “It feels so good to be able to sleep in a bit, now that I’m done with classes…”

He blinks a couple of times. “You call that sleeping in?” Pause. “I guess, if you’re used to waking up for classes every day. I’m not waking up as early as I’d like to these days, but this is still not the latest I’ve woken up at recently. I willed myself to wake up a bit early because I figured being asleep while your guest wanders the house in confusion would be bad manners.”

I rub my eyes. “I guess. I wouldn’t have really minded, though. When did you wake up, then?”

He pauses. “About half an hour ago, maybe? I didn’t check.”

And only now he came down to make breakfast?

“So you just stay in bed a bit after waking up and before making breakfast? I guess even someone as serious as you likes to laze about a bit after waking up, huh?”

He looks at me for a couple of seconds, like he’s mulling over his response. “I guess that’s the case, yeah.” He takes a sip of coffee and tilts his head back at me, like a reverse nod, as his eyes look down. He does that a lot when greeting people or pointing at things with his head. As far as I know, it’s very common in his country. “Cool outfit, by the way. Didn’t know we were at that base yet.”

“…huh?”

I look down and that’s when I realize I am still just in my underwear and shoes. My face burns up as I run outside the kitchen to find my clothes. I think I can hear him chuckling and turning back to the stove. Hastily I throw my loafers off and pull my pants on, then throw the shirt on, fingers trembling as I button it up. I don’t return until I’m something approaching presentable, but I can’t help thinking, for a few moments, that maybe Joshua seeing me in that state wasn’t so bad. Why am I thinking like this? I know I realized I’m gay recently but wow…

I try to compose myself before walking back to the kitchen. When I arrive, I see Joshua is tilting the frying pan, spreading butter over the surface. “I, uh, I’m back.”

“I noticed.”

That gets me thinking. “Hey, you haven’t left the kitchen, have you?”

“No. I feel I know what you’re going to ask, though.”

“Yeah, well… how could you tell I was going to walk up the stairs?”

He lets out a small sigh. “I don’t want to sound like a creep, but my species evolved specifically to detect small sounds and slight movements, specially those of prey animals. Hate to say it like this, but you’re technically a prey animal. Your feral counterpart are herbivores, and all.”

I blink a couple of times. “I… guess.”

“People don’t usually talk about these things because these senses don’t really matter to our daily lives and bigots can use these very easily to stoke species tensions in politics, but it’s there. It’s my reality.” He pauses, setting the pan back down again. “Or maybe it’s just my senses that are extra sensitive. I don’t know. It’s not something I talk about often.” He turns back around to face me, grabbing his cup of coffee and drinking all the contents in one big, final gulp.

It’s true that we all evolved from animals. We have sentient versions of species, that walk on two feet and grow to specific sizes and builds with a few predispositions – like bears and lions tend to be taller, while foxes and some dog breeds tend to be shorter – and feral versions of them, that are simply not as evolved and don’t have higher thought. We all keep some traits of our feral counterparts, whether they’re useful to us or not. I still have antlers, for example, even if sentient mating rituals don’t actually require them… but fortunately we also have medical supplements to keep them from growing out to their full size if we don’t want them to. I take them. I like how my antlers look at this size, and all the velvet has already fallen off, so they won’t grow out longer than this. Only downside is that they fall off more often because of that, four times throughout the year instead of one, but I can cope. Joshua, obviously, is bigger and stronger by default as a lion, but he also has harder nails on his fingers and toes like claws, and I think he has fangs as well. He doesn’t open his mouth really wide when he speaks, so I don’t get to see, and it’s not really something that I can just ask him, is it? ‘Hey, can you show me your teeth’ isn’t a normal question that people ask each other.

Wouldn’t mind it, though. He’s pretty handsome. Six feet of pure muscle, chiseled to perfection. He looks handsome enough with his glasses, but now, without them, I really take notice of how piercing his yellow eyes are, compounded with that serious neutral expression he has – really makes me feel like a deer in headlights, so to speak and ironically enough, but in a way I like. He’s really got the kind of ample chest that screams protection and power, and shoulders, biceps, abs and thighs to go with it. Uncanny, almost, how attractive the man is – like a model, almost, and how snug his clothes are all the time seems to emphasize it. My eyes trail down and I notice that he’s got a black necklace hanging from his neck, loosely, over broad trapezius muscles, ending in a small black cross resting on the middle of his chest. Focusing hard enough I realize his nipples are pierced. That’s new. My gaze trails down further, and I try not to think of the implications, but the way those gray sweatpants are resting against his body has me thinking that he’s got to be well endowed. He’s really attractive.

He blinks a couple of times. “Everything alright? You’re staring at me pretty hard.”

I clear my throat. “Oh, nothing. Just lost in my thoughts, like usual.”

“Like usual. Right.” It’s known that I tend to get lost in my thoughts pretty easily. “Weird glances you were giving me, though. Even if you’re a deer, it felt like I was being sized up by a predator, somehow. Were you trying something, since I mentioned predators and prey animals? A taste of my own medicine or something like that?”

“Oh, no, uh, I really was just thinking of something else. I’m sorry.” This is awkward.

He snorts, turning back to the frying pan. It smells like butter already. “Right. Guess that’s what I get for bringing up the issue of predators and prey up.” He cracks a few eggs and puts them in the frying pan, sizzling immediately upon contact. He opens another cabinet and pulls out a big bottle of soy sauce. He measures two tablespoons and tosses them into the frying pan. Then, he pulls out some wooden chopsticks from a drawer and begins stirring the eggs, scrambling them as they cook.

“That smells great…” My stomach grumbles. “Wondering what I should have for breakfast…”

Joshua stops stirring. “…what do you mean what you should have for breakfast? This is your breakfast.” A pause. “James, did you think I was just going to eat four eggs all by myself?”

“I… I don’t know. Maybe for your exercise diet?”

“Jesus Christ. You say the weirdest things sometimes.” He just goes back to scrambling the eggs. It doesn’t take long for them to cook, and he pulls out a plate from a cabinet, scooping half of the eggs into it. They look incredibly smooth. Maybe it’s just my hunger speaking, but it all looks great. He takes a fork out of a drawer and sets both the plate and the fork on the bar. “Eat up, before it gets cold.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” As I approach and sit, he’s already pouring coffee from a pot into another mug. He stops about halfway through, before taking the milk out of the fridge and filling in the rest of the cup, adding some sugar, and stirring with a teaspoon. He puts the mug next to the plate of eggs. “How did you know how I take my coffee…?”

“I just remember when you told me once. Not a hard order.” A pause, as he fetches an apple from a basket and takes a knife to it, dicing it up and putting the slices on my plate as well. “Besides, you’re North American. Taking coffee the way I take it would kill you.”

“Hey…”

“Don’t give me any sass. I’ve seen how American and European exchange students got in my university when they drank our coffee. Trembling, anxious messes.” He chuckles to himself. “I take my coffee straight and black, with no sugar, but that’s not for everyone. It’s also bad to drink coffee so strong on an empty stomach, but whatever.”

I look over at the stove, noticing the weird, jar shaped pot he used to serve the coffee. It reminds me of a stovetop tea kettle, but not quite. “You still haven’t bought a coffee machine, have you?”

“Why should I? Nobody owns one back in my country. You just make coffee in pots directly – coffee grounds, water, set to a boil, strain the grounds out. It’s not difficult. Coffee machines as a concept feel incredibly superfluous to me.”

“Still… haven’t you been living in Canada for at least half a decade now? I’d have imagined you’d have gotten one at some point.”

He sighs, putting one last apple slice on my plate before tossing the core out and putting the knife in the sink. “I don’t think you can tell, but coffee made with a coffee machine tastes different. Not as good.” He shrugs. “Then again, you probably think I can’t talk about taste, since I take my coffee black and without sugar.”

“Hey, no, it’s alright, I get it. It’s like French people that drink wine or English people that drink tea and have strong opinions on it.”

He stares at me for a couple of seconds. “Never compare me to a brit again.” He snorts, grabbing the frying pan by the handle, the chopsticks, and eating the scrambled eggs like that.

“I’m sorry for saying that you are _briddish._ ” I chuckle. “British and… Asian, too. You eat with chopsticks?”

“Sometimes. These are already in the pan and I don’t want to get anything else dirty, so might as well.”

“I’d have expected Michael to do something like that…”

He takes a bite of egg and swallows. “Korean chopsticks are a bit longer and made of metal. These are just cheap, disposable, wooden ones I use to stir because they don’t scratch the pans. Maybe they came with some cup noodles or sushi, I’m not sure.”

“I guess that’s true. It’s pretty clever, actually.”

“Ironically, Michael was the one that taught me to stir with chopsticks. So, I guess you were right about something there. Go thank him for the sight later on.”

“It’s a pretty nice sight…”

He arches an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“Nothing. It’s just funny to see you eating eggs out of a pan with chopsticks.” Nice save.

He chuckles. “Maybe. Whenever I cook I tend to eat from the pans directly. Less of a mess like that.”

I take a bite out of the egg on my plate. “Oh, these are very good…”

“Thank Michael for that as well. Sort of. He once made some scrambled eggs with kimchi in them, and I wondered if you could do the same with other condiments. Maybe something… less abrasive.” He looks off into the distance, remembering something. “I still remember when he offered Tyler some Kimchi and the poor man almost threw up.”

“No, he actually threw up.”

“He did? I must be misremembering things. I guess not all palates like strong flavors. Tyler’s tastes are as soft and gentle as him, I guess.”

Some time passes eating in silence. Joshua finishes his eggs and puts the pan in the sink, with the chopsticks, before grabbing an apple and taking a bite out of it. I can’t stop looking at his chest, though. He takes notice. “You’re doing it again.”

“Huh?”

“Staring at me. My chest, specifically. Are you thinking of a girl’s tits or something?”

I’m thinking of tits, alright.

“No, I just wanted to ask…”

“The cross or the piercings?”

“Both, actually.”

“Right.” Another bite out of the apple. I try not to think anything about that. “First off, no, I’m not Catholic again. I had to endure that bullshit during my upbringing and came out of the other side hating everything about the church. I just like how the cross looks, and I guess being raised Catholic gives me a right to wear this sort of stuff against an accessory.”

“It stands out pretty nicely against your black chest fur.” Indeed, there’s a pattern of black fur on his chest and going down his abs. Probably the same color as his armpit fur and what’s between his legs, but not like I can ask him to show me those. “Black and white all over.” What am I thinking?

“Thank you. Guys seem to like it, as well. As for the piercings…” He pauses for a couple of seconds. “I just wanted to get them and thought they looked nice. Guys seem to like them as well.”

“Probably for more than just the aesthetic…”

He laughs. “Definitely for more than just the aesthetic. You went to an art school in the big city. I bet you met several girls with pierced tits as well, huh? Thinking of one of those or something?”

Guys, actually. “No, I was just curious.”

“Glad you find the sight so interesting, James.” He gives me a small smile. “At least you don’t feel awkward seeing me like this. I guess anything goes, since you presented yourself to me in just your underwear.”

I really don’t think any part of this sight is anything besides enjoyable. “Oh, no, it’s alright, really. Your house and all, and we’re friends, so it’s not awkward.” Somehow, I can’t bring myself to just tell him that I’m gay and I’m enjoying the sight. Maybe he’ll look back on this interaction when I come out to everyone at the party and think he should have worn more clothes… but he also seems to like showing off. He’s weird. I can’t really tell if he’s enjoying this or not, or if it means absolutely nothing to him.

“Usually I’m more indecent than this. If I’m alone at home, I tend to just strut around in my underwear. Logically, I couldn’t do that with you here. I know you appeared to me in boxers and all, but boxer briefs are a fair bit more… explicit than that. I can’t just have my bulge swinging around straight friends like that.”

I am biting my tongue so hard and screaming internally so much right now.

“Haha, thanks for the consideration.”

“No problem. I’ll make sure to put on clothes after I shower and all. Just for you, friend.” He winks and finishes eating his apple with a smirk. He’s got to be doing it on purpose. He’s always been incredibly perceptive, so maybe he could tell that I liked dick the moment I walked into his car, and is just teasing me. He’s also incredibly nonchalant about everything, so maybe he doesn’t care, or he hasn’t realized at all and he’s just this casually charming, and I never noticed before. Maybe that’s why him and Michael have had sex before. I wish he wasn’t so hard to read sometimes, but that’s part of his charm. An integral part of his personality.

I wonder if he’s hiding something from us.

“Right, I’m done with breakfast, so I’m just going to shower, brush my teeth, and work on stuff today.” Him speaking snaps me back to reality. “You’re leaving, right? To visit the gang’s houses and see who you’re staying with?”

“Oh!” I pat my pocket, finding my phone and turning it on. “Right. I sent some messages in the group chat to see who’s ready to take my visit first… I don’t know if they replied, I fell asleep pretty hard.”

“Haven’t checked it, myself. You’ll just have to see.”

It takes a few moments for the screen to flash to life on the home screen, and I open our messaging app. The first person to reply was Brett. “It’s Brett…”

“Perfect. See if you can get Michael then Tyler next. I can drive you to Brett’s, since he lives furthest from my house, and then you walk back while going to each house. Sound good?”

I chuckle. “It’s gonna be weird, getting used to the fact that here I can just… _walk_ places. Toronto was so big that I had to use public transportation all the time. The streets here are so empty as well…”

“You miss that?”

“A bit. It’s why I’m going to move to Sudbury later. I don’t think I’d ever be able to afford rent in Toronto, though.”

“I’ll make sure to leave the car on at night, then, so you get relaxed with the sounds of cars.” He snorts. “No, I won’t.”

“Yeah, don’t, you’d end up killing us!” I chuckle.

I feel like his eyes glaze over for a split second at that comment, but he just turns back to the sink and washes the stuff he used. I don’t know if I said anything bad. “Your food’s getting cold, by the way. And make sure to leave the plate, mug and fork in the sink. I’ll wash them later.”

“Oh, no, I can wash them, don’t worry.”

He looks at me. “You’re my guest, James. You don’t _have_ to do the chores here.”

It feels nice to be taken care of like that. “Hm… where do I shower, though…”

“The bathroom you used last night to brush your teeth has a working shower in it.”

That thought gives me pause. “Wait, you know what bathroom I used last night?”

“Yes, James, I trained my predator superpower senses last night to listen to you piss.” He snorts. “Also, it’s the only bathroom on this floor that is unlocked. There’s no other bathroom you could have used. There’s some towels in a cabinet in there, too, so you can dry yourself.”

“Huh. That makes sense, I guess.” I keep eating. “You have a lot of locked doors in the house, huh?”

“I don’t like keeping rooms I’m not currently using unlocked. I’m just weird like that.”

“If you don’t use those rooms that much… I mean, why do you have such a big house, then? Two stories and a basement?”

He stares at the sink for a few seconds, water dripping down his claws. It’s like he’s either thinking hard about his answer, or the question gave him flashbacks to something else. “Because I can, I guess.” He takes a deep breath. “You know that I come from a poor family in a developing country. I didn’t have much growing up, and now that I can afford things, I guess I just like to have them because I can, circular as that reasoning sounds. There’s no real logical argument.”

“Oh… right. Sorry that I brought it up.”

“It’s alright. The question didn’t offend. Also, you’re not the one that brought it up.” He shoots me a smile before walking off. “Right, I’ll just do my thing then. Knock on my door when you’re ready to leave and I’ll drive you there, yeah?” He runs up the stairs, and I’m struck by how light his footsteps are. For a six-foot-tall mountain of muscle, he’s really agile and delicate. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s a lion?

I finish my breakfast. Even though I can basically hear Joshua groaning in my ears, I decide to wash the dishes anyways. Taking off yesterday’s clothes, I enter the bathroom, find a towel, and take out some clean clothing and my deodorant from my bag. I guess I’ll just have to change myself inside the bathroom.

Something catches my attention out the corner of my eye, in the mirror. For a few moments, it feels like the face looking back at me isn’t mine – something distorted, in the vague shape of me, but paler, and more washed out, like a de-saturated image. I blink and it’s gone. I try to tell myself it’s just my hyperactive imagination at play, but something feels wrong as I step in the shower, like I’m being watched. I hear the shower running upstairs, so Joshua is probably too busy to actually try and hear me – I don’t know if he even can, and it doesn’t sound like something he’d do.

**Because he is not the eternal watcher, and his reach is ultimately limited.**

I blink a couple of times and turn the faucet, letting warm water wash over my body. Joshua was kind enough to leave a soap bar and some shampoo here – the brand I use. I can’t believe he still remembers this. The smell of the clean foam on my fur takes my thoughts away from what I think I just heard. Maybe intrusive thoughts, maybe my hyperactive imagination again. I went into the arts for a reason, I guess.

**Your flesh remains still too tender.**

I scrub my scalp harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued soon...


	4. Sunday's Chains (Part 2)

A short car ride awaits me after I’m done showering and getting ready. Even though Joshua and Brett live roughly on opposite ends of town, it’s still only about 20 minutes by car to reach where he lives. I have my phone plugged into the aux cord and playing some of my gentle indie rock – which I know Joshua isn’t terribly fond of, but he doesn’t hate it either. I turn to look at him and I’m not sure if I find him more or less handsome now that he’s properly dressed and showered – even if that “properly dressed” just translates into a slim fitting black tank top over his muscles, blue jeans, black boots, and a light, black jacket over him, to protect him from the Canadian weather.

Very similar to yesterday’s outfit, now that I think about it. None of his clothes look dirty, so maybe he just owns several identical tank tops and jeans? Sometimes people do that. At least, I’m hoping he isn’t wearing yesterday’s clothes, and it’s not like I’m just gonna grab his clothes and sniff them to check.

Maybe it’s a tempting offer.

“Second time today you just sit and stare at me. Everything alright?”

His flat, deadpan tone cuts through me, and I cough before staring ahead. Of course, his gaze never left the road. “Oh, no, nothing, was just looking at something out your window.”

“Really. Could have sworn you were trying to burn a hole into my boobs from how hard you were looking.” He chuckles. Was I really staring directly at his chest? It wouldn’t surprise me, but that would be awkward. “Though maybe that’s just my peripheral vision. Big cats have good eyesight but I’m staring at the road, so.”

“Oh, yeah, must have been that.” I can feel the back of my neck sweating. He reads me too well, and I can’t really tell if he’s being sarcastic or if he really thinks I wasn’t looking at him and he made a mistake.

Even though New Blackden is bigger than some of the other towns in the periphery of Sudbury, it’s not really any more populated. Small towns tend to always have just one big road that cuts through the middle of the town and takes about five minutes to drive through, end to end, but New Blackden is a bit bigger than that, for some reason, and has several roads cutting through it. Almost like a small simulacrum of a city, I’d say. Maybe at some point this settlement was supposed to become bigger, but all expansions to it stopped after some time, for some reason. Can’t say the slight city-ness of it all does anything for me, after having lived four years in Toronto. There’s so many less people on the streets, the buildings are a lot smaller, and overall it feels a lot… sleepier. Sleepier is the only real way I have of putting it, honestly.

“So.” Joshua speaks up again, next to me. “You excited to spend some time with the others?”

“Oh, yeah! It’s been ages since I get to properly hang out with the gang, and it’s gonna be fun catching up with them!”

He pauses for a bit before emitting a small grunt of acknowledgement. “Just don’t forget you aren’t visiting just because you’re best life pals or something. You’re also trying to decide where you’re going to live the next few months, while you save up money to move to Sudbury.” Another pause. “You’re… moving to Sudbury, right? I think that’s what you told me when we last spoke, at least. The details are a bit fuzzy.”

Huh.

“Yeah, that’s the current plan. There’s this museum in Sudbury that’s seeking fresh graduates from the big art schools to act as curators, and maybe if I do well enough, I’ll get to exhibit my own works there before long. At least that’s what I’m hoping for, because I didn’t really get this degree to curate art exhibitions.”

I didn’t really get it because of any particular reason besides just liking to draw and paint, but that’s beside the point.

“Mm. Must be nice having those kinds of opportunities right after graduating. A lot of people struggle being unemployed some time after graduating, because the job market is atrocious right now.”

I grimace at the idea. “Yeah, some of my classmates and roommates are like that… I can just hope that they get jobs soon, since there isn’t a lot more I can do for them…”

His eyes dart towards me for a split second before going back to the road. “Yeah. That’s right. Best to focus on oneself and all that.”

I can’t help feeling there’s something deeper to that comment, but it’s not my place to pry.

Joshua keeps talking. “So, as I was saying, try to pay good attention to their houses, what it might be like to live with them, all that stuff.”

“Right.”

“Right. Onto the second topic; you aren’t having lunch at my house, right? Since I doubt you’re visiting all their homes before noon, and it’s already like, 9 AM.”

“Oh, yeah, after the first two visits I’m going to that food court in the supermarket and grabbing some lunch with Ty, then we’re going to his house after for the last visit!”

A smile creeps up the corners of his lips. “Solid enough plan. Visit all the houses in order from furthest from my house to nearest, and get lunch with the person whose house is after the midway point. Good task optimization.”

I chuckle. “Hey, your STEM is showing, Josh. And besides, half of the plan was your idea – if you hadn’t told us that was a good plan, I’d probably be wasting a lot of time walking around, or you’d have to come pick me up! Give yourself a little credit here.”

He pauses and looks down, before smiling. “Yeah, I guess the plan was my idea, after all. I was trying to be nice to your logical-mathematical reasoning capabilities, but I see you’ve fully thrown yourself into art and don’t need that.”

I gently jab his shoulder, and I’m struck by how solid the muscle underneath is. He snorts, hardly budging in his seat. Maybe I should start lifting weights like Joshua. And Michael. And Brett, I’m pretty sure he exercises as well. And Tyler, because I swear he looked broader on the shoulders when I last saw him—am I the only person in the group that doesn’t exercise?

The rest of the ride goes by in silence as I idly shuffle through some new albums I bought recently. Looking out the window, I’m struck by how the buildings end up getting smaller and smaller as we move by. Smaller, and worse-built – sometimes with cracks, shattered windows, places that are obviously trap houses, some trailers as well. I know the sight because it’s where Brett lived back when I first moved here.

Back then, he swore he’d move into a better part of town before long. “Hey…”

“Mm?”

“Is Brett still living around here?”

Joshua pauses for a few seconds, maybe realizing the weight of my question. “Yes.”

“That’s… odd.”

Joshua and Brett don’t just live on opposite ends of the town, but also opposite conditions. The part of town Joshua lives in is full of nice, big houses, that are obviously vacation resorts for rich families that live in the cities most of the time. Usually the other houses around his own are visited by cleaning staff keeping everything in good working order. I think he’s one of the very few permanent residents in that part of town. Leaving his part of town and going towards the core of the place, the houses start becoming smaller and built closer together, with whole families or individual people living in each house. There’s a couple of apartment complexes in town as well, and Brett lives in one, while Michael lives in the other. Tyler lives in one of the normal houses. Joshua, well, obviously lives in one of the nice, big, two story houses. Infamously, the apartment complexes are known as the “good” apartment complex, which just looks like it’s taken straight out of a city and dropped in the middle of this nothing town, and the “bad” apartment complex, which… also looks taken straight out of a city, but perhaps one of the seedier, poorer parts of it.

And that’s where we’re headed right now. That’s where Brett apparently still lives, even though he swore up and down he’d move out at some point. That’s concerning, maybe.

We drive into a street lined with rows of short apartment buildings on either side of it, and, for a mercy, the apartments are nicer than the part of town we just drove through. Still not as nice as the rest of town, but it’s something. It’s also at the very opposite edge of town, near the entrance to a forest, thick trees blocking the view in the distance. We keep driving until we come across the building I remember Brett lived in… he really has stayed here all along.

Joshua turns off the car and unlocks the doors, pulling his phone out and doing something on it. “Alright, step out when you want. You messaged Brett to tell him you were going to come here, right?”

“Yeah, he should be waiting for me already…”

“Well, off you go, then.”

I open the door and step outside, clutching the strap of my messenger bag as I step out. I close the car door and move to the opposite side, where the building is.

Behind me, Joshua speaks once more, after rolling his window down. “You still remember the apartment number, right?”

“Oh, yeah, don’t worry. I used to come here all the time with you guys, I couldn’t just forget that.”

Though most of the plans we did were at Joshua’s house, because it’s the roomiest.

“Alright. I’m not coming by to pick you up, because you’re walking back and all, but just shoot me a message if something happens, alright? I’m going back home to work on some stuff, but I’ll probably reply. And hey…”

I arch an eyebrow. Joshua pushes his glasses up by the bridge and leans his elbow out the window, looking at me and smiling. “Welcome home, yeah? Have fun. You’re with friends.”

At that moment, I’m struck by how nice it is when Joshua smiles. For as cold as he is normally, incredibly inexpressive, and how dry his speech and his sense of humor are, his smiles are… strangely, profoundly warm, like a beam of sunlight cutting through dark clouds. I can’t help blushing a little. And yet, I also can’t help feeling there’s… something wrong. Maybe a lingering sadness behind the eyes. Something close to imperceptible.

He snorts, rolling up his window. He waves at me one last time before driving off. Maybe I’m just imagining it.

Looking at both sides of the street, I see a few kids playing outside their apartments in the middle of the road – running off it when Joshua’s car approaches before it drives away. Parents stand on either side of the road, keeping an eye on their kids as they drive bicycles and play with balls, some of the adults sitting on the curb, on chairs, or leaning against the entrances to the buildings with their arms crossed. I guess that, for as bad as housing is on this part of town, it’s still a home to many people.

I turn towards the three-story building in front of me. I push the metallic grate at the entrance and it gives way, the metallic hinges squeaking as I walk in. Unlocked, since it only gets locked at night. Going up a flight of stairs, I’m struck by noises through the walls – TV sets, chatter, and also the smell of food being prepared. Suddenly, I’m glad that I had breakfast before leaving Joshua’s house this morning.

I knock on the door to Brett’s apartment and it doesn’t take very long for him to open. He’s wearing a tank top (which hangs off him more loosely than Joshua’s do), sweatpants and sneakers. “Hey!” There’s his infectious cheerfulness. He holds his arms out to the sides and I go in for the hug he’s obviously offering me. He doesn’t squeeze quite as hard as some of the other people in the gang do – it’s nice and comforting, actually. “Come in, come in! Make yourself comfortable!”

Obviously, he doesn’t mind the neighbors hearing him. I chuckle. “Good to see you, Brett!”

“Right back at ya!” I walk in, and he closes the door behind me, locking it. He claps his hands together and rubs them – it’s decently warm in the apartment, so that’s probably just a thing he does. “So! Normally I’d ask what brings you here, but like, we talked about that before, so…” He jogs towards the middle of the living room, before stretching his arms wide to the sides. “Welcome! I mean, you’re really just checking the place out, but I feel I should give you a proper welcome anyways.”

I take a couple of steps in, and I’m immediately struck by how small the place feels. Right after the entrance door, you walk into a space that seems to act as the living room and dining room at the same time. On the left, what I can just assume is an open doorway leading to the kitchen – it sounds like something is cooking in there, and smells like it as well. There’s a doorway on the other end of the room, that from experience I know leads to the only bathroom here and Brett’s bedroom. The decoration here is sparse, and there’s just a two place couch in front of a TV in the living room along with a small dinner table with two chairs on opposite ends of it, but it feels cozy regardless. Lived-in, is the term, I think. Like someone’s home.

Brett sits at the couch and pats the other side of it, for me to sit. “Come on, make yourself at home!”

“Heh, alright!” I can’t help smiling. He’s so eager. I sit on the couch – the same one he used to own the last time I was here. He reaches for the TV’s remote before I speak up. “Oh, I don’t think we should watch something. I’m here to give the place a look and all.”

“Oh. Yeah, you have a point.” He sets the remote back down on the coffee table and turns to me. “So, is there anything in particular you wanna see?”

I can’t really say there is. This place looks frozen in time – identical to the way it was back when I left for school. “Oh, not really, I’ll just take a look around and may ask some questions about stuff every now and then!” I take my messenger bag off and Brett just smiles at me – a simple smile.

“Aight! I’ll be here if you need me. Not that… I really have anywhere else to go, haha.” He chuckles – no bitterness to his tone. Alright.

I stand and pace around the tiny living room, marveling at how… remarkably identical everything is to the way it was when I first arrived to New Blackden. Same couch, same dinner table, same chairs, same TV… Peeking into the kitchen doesn’t really offer any new sights – the narrow corridor making up the kitchen having the same old fridge, same old stove, same old microwave, and same old… not much else. I go up to the faucet, open it, then close it… and it drips exactly the same way I remember it dripping. That one faucet always had a leaking problem, where it stayed leaking for a solid minute after closing. And it’s all here. A bit behind me, I can hear the sound of the news – surely Brett turned on the TV and began watching. Same old speaker issues on the TV as well. For no real reason, I decide to open the fridge, being met with it almost empty, save for a few instant meals, a couple of vegetables, and some milk. Same way it used to be, as well.

“Hey…”

I close the fridge door as the voice in the living room replies. “Yeah?”

“Can I go see your room?”

“Oh? Oh! Yeah, sure!” He jumps to his feet and turns off the TV. “I forgot I’d told you you’d be sleeping in my room, hehe. Lemme just… clean up a few things, and then I’ll call you, yeah? I’ll try to be more tidy if you stay here!” He struts off through the opening in the wall, walking a bit more towards his bedroom. Alright then.

I walk back to the living room and sit on the still warm couch, pulling out my phone. Checking my messaging app, I see Tyler and Michael are online. Brett isn’t, probably because he hasn’t checked his phone in some time, but it says his last time online was less than ten minutes ago. Glaringly, Joshua isn’t online either, and it says his last time online was… about an hour ago. Before we even left the apartment. He should have arrived there by now, so I wonder what’s going on – the guy’s always online. He said to call him if something happened, but everything’s alright for now. I don’t think I should call him just to ask what he’s doing. I hear some fumbling coming from the direction of the bedroom, and almost in response to my thoughts, Joshua comes back online. I guess I didn’t have any reason to worry, then.

Something I still find odd is that his icon on the app is a simple, head-on selfie. He’s never been one to take many selfies, even if he’s probably the best person in the gang at it, but his icons used to be crops of group photos of us – fitted to his face and cutting everyone else out. Tyler always had video game things, Michael’s were selfies he uploaded online, Brett’s were either memes or bad, low quality photos of himself, and Joshua’s were crops of photos of us. But now, it’s just a plain, expressionless face staring back at me.

Odd.

It’s been ten minutes since I sat on the couch, I realize. Strange that Brett hasn’t called me yet. I doubt cleaning up his room is taking _this_ long. I get up, grabbing my bag and slinging the strap over my shoulder, before following into the short hallway leading to his room. Turning to the left, towards my right is the bathroom – looking plain as ever.

In front of me is Brett, his back turned to me, standing on the edge of the doorframe, looking into the room. His head slowly turns towards the right, like he’s following something with his gaze as it heads towards the window, but nothing’s there. He blinks a couple of times, and turns back, jumping a little when he sees me. “Ah! Sorry, must’ve spaced out a bit. How long did it take me to clean?”

“About… ten minutes.”

“Oh, man, real sorry that I made you wait all that long outside, hehe.” He scratches the back of his head and closes one eye. Pretty cute. “Anyways, here’s my room! You’ll probably find everything pretty familiar.”

“Like the rest of the house, huh?”

“Haha, yeah.” He walks into the room and lays on his bed – a simple, single person mattress on a small, no-frills frame close to the ground. He splays out on the middle, arms behind his head, and lays down staring at the ceiling. “Check out everything you want, bud.”

I bite my tongue before I say something inappropriate. Stepping in… this is his room, alright. A pretty plain desk, with a computer that’s seen some better days on it, a closet holding probably all the clothes he owns, a drawer with some things like cologne and deodorant on it, a plain nightstand next to his bed with a simple lamp on it, and the simple bed. The only decoration on the room is a single poster on the wall, that I remember as well, of a tigress in a yellow bikini on a beach, giving the viewer an inscrutable gaze between lust and curiosity. Heterosexual. Brett’s had the same poster for ages. I know every time he came, Joshua gave it some apprehensive looks – apparently it’s promotional material for a beer brand from his country, and he gave it to Brett at some point in the past. I think there’s writing on the top and bottom parts of the bikini, but I can’t understand the language, and I feel dirty just staring at those areas for long. I know Brett likes Latinas, and that’s probably why he keeps that poster up, despite the edges curling inwards.

For some reason, I’m now imagining Joshua in a swimsuit on that same beach, in the same situation, and kicking myself for having those thoughts. It fits too well, but right now isn’t the time to have such thoughts. It’s a nice mental image, though.

I groan, and turn away from the poster, towards the man on the bed. Maybe the fact that I acknowledged I’m gay in school is letting me see my friends with new eyes, but I hadn’t realized how attractive he is. Not a huge hunk like Joshua, and not the same level of unnaturally handsome, but he is very handsome regardless. Having more of an athletic build, but around my height, he feels more down to earth, almost. That tank top resting against his body doesn’t really hide much, and I like what I see – taut, slim muscles, almost like a swimmer’s even though I’m not sure we have anywhere _to_ swim around here, since the lake is too cold for that most of the time, and he’s an amphibian. His skin has a very nice gloss to it as well, and I like how the clearer patch of flesh towards his chest and belly frames his body so perfectly – a red salamander, with a stable pattern of black spots on his skin, that give way to clear orange skin on a chest that slowly rises and falls, stable breathing as he lays with his eyes closed. I wonder how much of his skin has that same tone. My instinct is almost telling me to climb on that bed, on top of him, and lay my head on his chest to sleep. He’s got a very handsome face as well, with a nice, broad jaw and soft lips that I can’t help but wonder how they feel. It’s okay to have these thoughts, right? Since he’s straight and all, and I’d never get to feel those things regardless. Or would that make the thoughts wrong?

He opens a brown eye and looks at me. “Hey, everything alright?”

I blink a couple of times. “Oh, yeah, everything’s alright. I just finished looking at everything and was about to tell you.”

“Ah, alright then!” He sits up on the bed, not suspecting for a moment that I was staring at his body with such ideas in mind. “Oh, uh… do you have your own mattress or sleeping bag or something, to sleep here? I don’t think we’d both fit in my bed, and I don’t think you’d enjoy it, since you’re not Michael or Joshua, haha.” He flashes me a grin, closing his eyes and smiling with his teeth at the joke he just made.

I want to punch him and tell him he’s very wrong. “I think I do have a sleeping bag, yeah. I’m just putting it on the floor each night, I guess? It shouldn’t be that bad, since I’m just staying here a few weeks or maybe a couple of months…”

“Yeah! And… I don’t have any of those, so I’m glad you _do_ have some…” He scratches the back of his head bashfully. “Can’t really have you sleeping on the bare ground, and I doubt you wanna sleep on my couch. Gets cold out there and it’s pretty uncomfortable…”

“Thanks for your consideration.” I hope it doesn’t sound like I’m being sarcastic.

My sight travels to the desk, where I see a flier for something. There’s some blue framing, and white text, along with a logo for something I can’t recognize. I can’t read the text all the way from here. There’s a photo on the front – some people playing soccer together. Maybe that’s what Brett is doing to keep so fit? It might be a flier for an event of some kind, and I think I see some times on it, in white font. I approach—

Brett’s eyes go wide like platters and he darts forward, almost stumbling over himself, to slam his hand on the desk and grab the flier. “Whoa, there, almost forgot this one!”

I recoil a bit. “O-oh, what… is that?”

“Nothing important! Just, uh… this thing being handed out at my supermarket to all the customers when they leave.”

I blink. “You’re not a customer, though.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to see what they said anyways! Well, it was nothing important.” He crumples up the paper and tosses it into a trash can by the nightstand, landing the ball of paper inside the bin perfectly—

It _would_ have landed inside, if it wasn’t because of how stuffed the trash can is, from many other papers hastily tossed inside, folded in odd angles. Similar aesthetics – some strips of color, a photo of some people, and white text and the same logo. There’s a lot of these. I don’t feel I should go digging around Brett’s trash, though, specially not while he’s right here in the room with me. I take a step forward to grab the fallen paper ball, and I feel him tense up. I look at him, and his eyes are wide, even though he’s trying to play it cool (and, in my eyes, failing really badly at it).

Hands on his knees, his fingertips are trembling as well. Very vigorously, as well. I can almost feel the sweat droplets forming at the back of his neck, and it’s making _me_ uncomfortable and awkward.

I go back to where I was standing. “Alright, I’m not gonna pry.” It’s very obvious to me that he’s hiding something. Confirming this belief further is how he relaxes after I say that. “Let’s just, uh, talk about something else, yeah?”

“Yeah!” He scoots over to the head of the bed – conspicuously, the part closest to the trash, but I’m not sure if it’s a deliberate move – and I sit on the other half of it. We make some small talk, about nothing in particular – just catching up, since we haven’t really talked in a while. It seems not much has happened here, in New Blackden, while I was gone. Same old, as I expected. Still, I can’t help feeling something has to be up with Brett. Every now and then, his gaze focuses on something right outside my field of view, before returning to me, and he seems anxious whenever I turn to look at it. Besides, I swear he said he was going to work his ass off to save up money and move up the ranks at his job, to get a better life… and yet, here he is, in the same apartment he lived in five years ago when I first moved to this town, in the same conditions. I wonder if something happened. I wonder why Joshua never told me anything.

Maybe it’s just not my business, and maybe I shouldn’t pry.

It’s about 10 AM now. I shoot Michael a message telling him I’m coming to his house next, and he replies almost immediately.

‘ait’  
‘aigt’  
‘Alright.’  
‘fuckin piece of shit tech’

Classic. I get up from the bed, stretching out. Brett gets up with me, stretching as well. “You’re leaving now, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Lemme show you to the door, then! Not like you can really leave otherwise, ‘cause you don’t have the keys to this house, haha…” I realize how much I’d missed Brett’s easygoing sense of humor. He’s just a guy you can talk to about pretty much anything you want, and he’s really easy to hang out with. Even if you have to withstand a few puns here and there along the way.

I follow him out the room and into the living room. He opens the door for me and motions for me to leave, pretty dramatically – I can’t help chuckling. “Hey, have you considered getting into scenic arts? I don’t think my school has any majors for it, but I could look up some stuff for you.”

“Haha… funny joke, you jokester. You think I can pay for a major at one of the big fancy universities of Canada?” He arches an eyebrow and scoffs. “Those people spend in one semester what I make in a whole year. It’s mad.”

“Oh, yeah…” I scratch the back of my head. “Sorry.”

“’s alright! But you owe me lunch for that joke.” He chuckles. “Owe…” He looks down, like he’s remembering something. “Oh, right!” He runs back into the house and brings something out – a card. He hands it to me. “Figure I might as well give you a gift, to welcome you back here!”

I grab it from his hands and check it out. It’s a $10 gift card for the supermarket chain that Brett works at. “Oh.”

“Hey, I know it’s not a lot, but it’s the thought that counts, right?” He chuckles.

“Oh, no, yeah, it’s alright! You’re right, it’s the thought that counts, and I could probably buy something… nice with this.”

My voice trails off as I look up and I notice a third person in the room with us. Standing behind and to the side of Brett, a few feet away, is… Brett. Again. Distorted, black and white, and with a completely blank gaze, but that’s Brett. The second figure stares at me, and I feel its gaze burning a hole at the back of my skull – like I’m looking at something that shouldn’t be stared at directly, like the sun, but instead of burning my retinas it’s burning something else. Something deeper and more primal.

The real Brett’s gaze goes blank and he looks back, at the third person in the room. After I blink, it’s gone. Brett looks in that direction a few more seconds, and he turns back to me. “Hey, anything happen, bud?” He chuckles.

What was that? It’s gone, and the burning sensation has disappeared as well. I blink a couple of times. “Oh, no, I just… thought I saw something.”

“Haha, was the gift so good that it’s got you hallucinating? I _see_ some great discounts in your future, buddy!” He pats my shoulder. “Well, I’m not gonna hold you here long. You already told Michael you’re going there, and you… know how he gets if you annoy him.” He grimaces, and I shudder, knowingly as well. Michael _does_ have a pretty short temper.

“Right…” I take a deep breath. “Well, it was nice to see you again, Brett! Hope we have a great time tomorrow at the party!”

His eyes go wide, like he just remembered something. “Shit, I’m supposed to bring the cups tomorrow. Thanks for reminding me, bud!”

I can’t help laughing. “Hey, _I_ am supposed to be the scatterbrained, daydream-y one in the group! You can’t just take my defining character trait away from me!”

“Haha!” He scratches the back of his head. “I wish I knew what you’re talking about!”

I chuckle one last time and wave him goodbye. He closes the door behind me and locks it once more. I did see that, right? I didn’t just imagine it. Brett looked back but he stared a few seconds too long for him to have seen _nothing_ at all. Or maybe I’m imagining that as well.

I can’t help feeling I’m being stared at as I walk out of the building. Maybe there’s people looking at me, but I feel there might be something else as well. I try to speed up a little, going towards Michael’s apartment building. I don’t like walking around this area of town, but if I look straight ahead and don’t try to provoke anyone, I should be fine.


	5. Sunday's Chains (Part 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for mentions of homophobia and light slur usage.

It takes me all of ten minutes walking to reach the apartment building Michael lives in. After leaving Brett’s place it doesn’t take long for the bad urban planning to give way to some empty roads, and then the town starts again. It almost feels like the place Brett lives in is an afterthought, with how separate it is from everything else. Almost makes it feel like the apartments Michael lives in are actually part of the town.

They’re definitely nicer than Brett’s place. The façade is completely painted and missing any cracks, and the door to each individual building is made of glass, with an electronic lock you either unlock with a card or by someone inside the apartment letting you in. The apartments are so nice, they sorta clash with the small town vibe of everything else, actually. They feel like they were physically lifted off a bigger city, like Toronto, and unceremoniously dropped in the middle of the forest, just because. Of course, since they’re here, they’re cheaper to live in than an actual apartment in Toronto, which I’m sure Michael is glad for.

I check my phone one last time to see what apartment number Michael lives in now. He moved recently, but he didn’t leave the apartment complex – as far as I know, he just moved to a nicer apartment, but I’ve never seen it on the inside. I walk up to the door and press the button with his number on it. Something in the distance buzzes. After a few seconds, a speaker under the buttons crackles to life, showing someone’s on the other end of the line. “Uh, hi? It’s James, Michael.”

Silence on the other end.

“Er… did the connection fall? Hello?” I fish out my phone and pull up Michael’s contact, to shoot him a message in case something went wrong—

“Huh?” His voice, on the other end of the line.

“Oh, I thought something had happened. Uh, I’m here now, so if you could—“

“Who the fuck are you?”

Still his voice. He has to be messing with me.

“Sorry, I don’t know any _James._ Losers aren’t allowed into my apartment, so like, go blow a hobo or something. Have a nice day.”

The connection cuts out and I let out a sigh. Yep, that’s Michael alright. The door buzzes, and I can push it open. I begin going up the stairs – I cannot, for the life of me, comprehend why someone would willingly move to a fifth floor apartment on a building without an elevator, but knowing Michael, for all I know he did it to exercise his legs whenever he goes up or down.

Reaching his doorstep, I take some time to breathe a few times, because I’m sure he’s going to make fun of me if he hears how heavy my breathing is right now. Though, I’m sure with how much time I’m taking out here, he probably suspects something’s up anyways. It’s probably hopeless. I go up to the door and knock.

“Door’s open.”

I turn the doorknob and push it in, being hit with the heating of the apartment. It’s warm inside. Michael pops into view, a can of something in his hand. He looks up at me and smirks. “’Sup, bitch.” He takes a sip of his drink and motions towards the rest of the apartment with his head, telling me to get in.

“Nice to see you too, Michael.” I smile, arching an eyebrow at his curious introduction. “No better way of making one feel at home, huh.”

“It’s my home so the place ought to feel like me, don’t you think?” He snorts. “Now get the fuck in, you’re letting all the hot air out.”

I step in, closing the door behind me. “Oh, do you want me to lock, or leave it like this?”

“Leave it unlocked. I like the thrill of not knowing if someone’s gonna try to break in through the front door, dude.” He steps forward and locks the door himself, to punctuate the sarcasm of what he just said. “So, what’re you doing here, again? Just checking out how I live like a realtor?”

“No… I mean, uh, yes? I guess?” I scratch the back of my head. “I _guess_ that me going over to all of your houses and checking out how you live is _kind of_ like what a realtor does when checking out property? I wouldn’t know, I don’t know any.”

“Right, I’m the one with the parents that own more than one house. Sorry for being the son of a _landlord,_ man.” He feigns disgust as he takes another sip of his drink.

I tend to forget Michael technically comes from a well-off family. “Oh, right. Do your parents own this apartment too?”

“Yeah. I think. I don’t know, dude, I just live here and that’s all that matters to me.” You really wouldn’t guess that his parents have good money just from looking at him – the brash, short, beefy man in front of me, currently dressed in a slim fitting red t-shirt, shorts and socks, without shoes.

Shorts and sneakers? I look down as I speak. “Oh, were you going to go work out in a bit?”

“Damn, can’t a bitch give the spirits in the walls some thick thigh action without being interrogated around here?” He scoffs. “Nah, I just like feeling like I’m not wearing anything, and since you had to go and drop by today, I have to put on clothes. Many thanks for that, by the way.”

I chuckle. “Hey, I’m sorry that I’m standing between you and your exhibitionist streak. Don’t let me stop you if you just want to strip, though.” I kick myself mentally for putting it in those terms.

“Why would I show a straight man all this? If anything, you should be the one getting naked. Reparations and all that.” He snorts and sets his can on the table. At that moment I realize it’s a can of beer.

“Huh. You drink now?”

“Lil bit.”

“I wouldn’t have expected that from the fittest guy in the group…”

He smirks. “Don’t tell Joshua that.”

“I don’t know if he’d care… anyways, isn’t beer fattening? It’s a lot of calories…”

“Not if you work them off. Besides, I can just chalk this up to bulking. Cheat however the fuck you want and just say you’re bulking.”

Still, he doesn’t look like he’s bulking at all. He’s still perfectly ripped – or at least he looks to be from where I’m looking. “Doesn’t seem to be bulking you up a lot…”

“Hey, fuck you.” He takes another sip. “Wait, that’s a compliment? Uh, thanks, then. Thinking hard.”

I look around, finally giving myself time to examine the environment. There’s some pretty good decoration here, surprisingly – I wouldn’t imagine Michael would really have an eye for that sort of thing. Maybe he doesn’t, and it’s just that his parents gave him everything and told him how to distribute it in the space. A short, wooden shoe locker to my left, with a bunch of pairs of shoes in it already, is the first thing you meet when you enter the apartment. I slide out of my shoes and put them inside the locker, out of courtesy. Even if the place is bigger than Brett’s apartment, and nicer, it’s still an apartment, so there isn’t quite as much space as there would be in an actual house. Cream colored walls give the place a bit of a cozy, warm atmosphere, as a wooden dinner table sits some feet away from the entrance door. Four chairs surround it, and there’s some decorative furniture around. It’s definitely not Michael’s vibe. Someone must have arranged all of this for him. The couch in front of the TV is way too nice and big to be something he’d buy on his own – he wouldn’t want to have to maintain something like that.

Seems Michael catches me looking around. “Oh, you’re doing the realtor thing now. Right, lemme just fuck off to my room a bit, then.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, wait, I can just look at the whole place?”

“Yeah? You’re my guest and all that crap. Look around, flip the couch over if you want, I don’t really give a shit.” He smirks. “Not like you’d be able to, anyways. Those arms have only ever lifted easels and palettes and it shows.”

Maybe I _really_ should begin working out.

Michael leaves through an opening on the far side of the wall, and I head to the kitchen. Even though it’s not the same building at all, it’s got a pretty similar structure to Brett’s apartment. Bigger, though. I’m sure it has more than one bedroom, and may even have more than just one bathroom, but I haven’t checked. Michael’s old apartment was about the size of Brett’s current one, even if it was nicer, and this apartment looks bigger just on the outside – though I’ve never been here. I open the fridge, and see it’s a fair bit more full than Brett’s… even if most of the contents are cans of beer. I can’t comment on the brand because I don’t really know about beer brands at all, though this doesn’t really look expensive at all. I wonder when he began drinking. He used to be incredibly conscious about health and fitness, so for him to drink something even _I_ know is fattening… these people have changed. There’s really nothing else to say about the kitchen. It’s nice, it’s roomy, and it’s incredibly obvious Michael doesn’t cook very often.

I keep marveling at how nice the decoration is as I walk over to the couch. Michael doesn’t have a TV so much as he has a whole home theater system. I remember going over to his old apartment to watch movies, back when I was on my vacations every now and then, and it was always the best experience here. Great sound, surrounding you, and in darkness the screen looks great. The speakers are a bit dusty, though, and it doesn’t look like he’s opened any of the movie cases by the TV in a good while. Funny. I think Joshua had a similar setup in his house. I sit on the couch and… yeah, it feels new. It’s very comfy, but it also doesn’t have that _je ne sais quoi_ of a chair that’s been thoroughly used in the past. The cushions are ever so slightly _too stiff_ , and even though Michael is a solid unit of muscle, he’s pretty short, so even when laying down on this he probably doesn’t cover a lot of area or exert a lot of pressure. He must have gotten this couch within the last year, because I can’t recall ever seeing it before.

I get up and head to the inner area of the apartment, when I notice a small dent on the wall, like it was bashed inwards. Weird.

I was right, and there’s more than one room here. Michael lives alone, though, and it seems like the room closest to me right now isn’t for sleeping in, but a study. Right, I suppose that if you’re studying to finish grad school in linguistics, and you also want to become a teacher, having a dedicated study space is the best idea. I step in, and I’m impressed at the amount of books crammed into the bookcase right next to me – a lot of technical texts on language, its history and how it functions. I’m still not sure why he got such an interest in that stuff, but he’s very dedicated to it, and he really likes it. There’s some papers on a desk in the corner, with an office chair in front of it, and a laptop open in front of them, but turned off. There’s a lit lamp illuminating the documents. Michael probably forgot to turn it off last night after he finished working. Or last whenever it is that he worked on this stuff last. I can’t tell. I probably shouldn’t touch anything—

“Hey, don’t fucking touch anything there.”

That’s nice. His voice cuts through the air coming from the other room, though I can tell he has something in his mouth – either food or some drink. “Hey, I wasn’t going to…”

“Yeah, I know, I just wanted to yell. I know art majors don’t like to touch each other’s shit.”

He’s a character, for sure. I chuckle to myself as I walk out of the room, leaving everything how I found it. “Alright, but that lamp stays on, then.”

“Sure.”

A pause.

“That what now?”

“There’s—“

“Actually, I don’t care, leave it on. I probs left it like that for some reason.”

I shrug and walk deeper into the apartment. Indeed, here’s a bathroom, with the same level of decoration you’d expect considering the rest of the apartment. Rather unremarkable, even if the full length mirror physically embedded in the wall seems slightly out of place. Maybe something he ordered to have in the apartment after he got it? Maybe he just needs to check how his build is progressing often.

At last, I walk into his room, being met with a cozier living space than the rest of the house, Simpler, even. Maybe whoever or whatever it is that did the decoration for the rest of the living space didn’t touch this room, for whatever reason – there’s a few posters on the walls, some clothes on the ground, some clutter on the nightstand and there’s a few open drawers. Glaringly, there’s a poster that’s very similar to the poster Brett has on his wall, except instead of featuring a tigress on a beach in a skimpy yellow bikini, it features a tiger on a beach in a skimpy red speedo, undressing the viewer with his gaze. You really can’t say Michael is heterosexual. It’s a sight I enjoy a bit more than the Brett poster, but I’m still taken aback a bit when I see it.

Michael, laying back on the bed, notices. “What, you prude? Like you didn’t just come from Brett’s house. If he can have some bitch with her tits out on his wall why can’t _I_ have some man-bitch with _his_ tits out on mine?”

I blink a couple of times. “I wasn’t saying anything.”

“You sure were thinking it though. Get used to it.” He reaches over the side of the bed and grabs… another beer can, before taking a long swig out of it.

“Wait, didn’t you just have one?”

“Yeah? And what is it to you?” He arches an eyebrow.

“I—no, I mean, how did you get another can? I saw them in your fridge, so like, did you walk all the way there while I was in that study without me noticing?”

Michael lets out a small grunt. Then, he reaches over and taps a mini-fridge next to his bed with the tip of his socked foot. “Buddy.”

I crouch next to it and open it, revealing… yet more beer. Same brand, filling out the whole mini-fridge. Barring a couple of sandwiches tossed in there to fill out the rest of space, it’s almost all alcohol. I don’t really know what to say.

“What’s the fucking deal, James?” Michael scoffs. “Don’t you art school freaks get drunk all the time?”

I close the fridge and stand again. “No. Usually art people do harder stuff than beer.” Michael smiles at me. “Mushrooms, cannabis, LSD. Some of us really need that stuff to really get inspiration for our art, I guess.”

“Niiice.” Michael’s posture relaxes, and it isn’t until then that I realize he was a bit tense. “And how much shit have you done? Any weird mixes to really get the juices going?”

“Oh.” I clear my throat. “I guess my phrasing was a bit confusing. That _us_ doesn’t really include me. I haven’t done anything harder than alcohol, maybe sometimes smoked weed.”

Michael’s smile drops. “Well, aren’t you a fucking stiff. Psh.” He downs the rest of his beer before… crushing the can with his bare hands and tossing it at the trash can. It lands about a couple of inches away from the can. “Fucking hell.” He grumbles some before rolling off the bed and kicking the can up into the trash, somewhat unceremoniously.

I’m not sure if I’m only perceiving things here, but I feel Michael’s being a bit… off-putting right now. Sure, he used to be a bit brash and hot-headed, but he’s actually being a bit of an ass now. Not like I can tell him that straight up, though, so I guess I just have to bite my tongue for now.

I scratch my head and look off to the side. Michael looks up to me and sighs. “Look, let’s just talk about something else, yeah?” I can sorta tell he’s blushing a bit under his fur, though it’s hard to tell because he’s got orange fur. “So, how’s a big city liberal like you enjoying coming back to this shithole, huh?” He runs a hand over his hair, smoothing it down against his scalp – the few stray hairs outside his top knot.

I sigh as I look around, sitting down on a nearby chair. I guess even when deliberately trying to be nice, he can’t avoid being a bit of an ass. “C’mon, you know it’s not like that.”

He flops down on his bed then sits up to look at me. “Fuck do you mean it’s not like that? You a Conservative now?” He arches an eyebrow. “’Cause I already told you losers aren’t allowed in my house, so I’ll have to throw you out the window if you are.”

I chuckle. “Forced defenestration, huh. No, it’s not like that either. Actually, I wasn’t talking politics, I just mean that… it doesn’t feel fair to say I’m a “city liberal” because I lived in one for four years due to school, I guess?”

“Four important formative years, mind you.”

“Hey, you also study in the city, don’t you? Sudbury U, I think?”

“C’mon, dude. Sudbury and Toronto are a world of difference. Don’t give me that shit.” He groans. “Anyways, stop dodging the question. You hating it here yet?”

“No, Michael… I’ve been a small town person my whole life. It’s a bit jarring to come back here, but I don’t _hate_ it. It’s not fair to say that. That’s not going to change just because I went to school outside, yeah?” I try to give Michael a gentle smile.

He scoffs. “You’re fucking off to Sudbury after you save up some cash, though, aren’t you? Some small town person you are.”

I sigh. “It’s not my fault you can’t really find work around here with an art degree…”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I get that, really. Not like I’m finding a job around here with this degree and this reputation either. No job that I’d like, at least.”

This reputation? Maybe I shouldn’t ask. I cross my arms and look around the room, trying to find something else to talk about.

Maybe there _is_ something I want to talk about, actually. “Hey, Michael.”

“Huh?”

“How’s being gay treated you? You’re not really quiet about the fact.”

He sighs. “Someone’s gotta teach you to learn better small talk conversation topics, y’know. Aight…” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and scratching the back of his head. “Well, some of the locals don’t like it. That shit they shovel at you that Canada is this progressive paradise is pure horseshit. If people in a shitty, ass-backwards town want to, they can be exactly as backwards as some American hicks from the deep south. Not like I give a crap though. Nobody would dare touch someone this jacked or give them shit over being gay, you know?” He chuckles.

“I… guess.”

“The fucking parents though… I don’t know if I’ve told you this but this is the reason I don’t live with them, actually.”

This is new. “You hadn’t told me, actually.”

“Yeah, well, when I came out to them they wanted nothing to do with me anymore. They’re fucking… they’re immigrants that had to fight their way up in life and had to face all sorts of shit for being Korean from the locals. They just learned where their allegiances had to lie and shit. They broke it big and now they live comfy lives even if they had to eat a lot of shit to get there. But I guess all those Liberal votes still don’t mean they want a fag in the family, heh.”

I grimace a bit. Even if that word is one that Michael can use – and I guess I have rights to it as well, on some level – I’m not used to hearing it used so casually. It sure would give some of my classmates an aneurysm to hear it, and for Michael to just toss it so casually in conversation… of course, it doesn’t seem like he cares at all, if his bitter chuckling is any indication.

“Not apologizing for that. That’s the kinda shit I have to hear all the time. Not from my parents, though. They hardly talk to me, even if they do pay for all my shit.” He looks down. “I don’t get them. I’ve talked to some people about it, and they say that them still paying for my tuition and my home is a sign that they actually love me and want the best for me or some shit.” He pauses. He cracks his knuckles. “If they loved me they wouldn’t have kicked me out ‘cause I like dick, you know. Doesn’t make sense.”

I take a deep breath. I wasn’t expecting such a heavy infodump when I asked that question, but… wow. I didn’t know Michael was dealing with all this.

“Not like I give a shit. Their cash loss. Every election I vote for the party that wants to take their riches as well, ‘cause I’m a vindictive little shit.” He smirks. “Besides that, fucking men up the ass is cool, so I’d say being gay’s pretty sweet, actually. That answer your question? Wait, what was your question, again?”

“No, I think that answers it pretty well, I guess.” I’m not fully sure where to go from here.

“Right, if you don’t have anything else to say, I’m gonna burn the calories of the beer.” With that, he jumps to his feet and heads for the door… then stands under the frame. “You can sit there and stare at me if you want, like some voyeur.”

“Wait, what are you going to do?”

“Eyes up. You’re closer to it than me, how did you miss it?”

I look above him and, in mid-air, is a horizontal bar that seems to be bolted into either the frame of the door or the walls. It’s hard to tell from where I’m sitting, but it looks pretty solid. I’m not sure how I missed it – it’s not even a whole foot above my head, as far as I can tell… It’s probably as high up as Tyler’s height, actually. “What’s that?”

“Pull-up bar. Can’t fit a gym inside my house ‘cause I’m not Joshua, but I can get this at least. I just do a few reps whenever I’m feeling like it, and it pumps the guns, yeah?”

“Oh, uh, makes sense.” I stand and head over to Michael’s bed, sitting on it. Michael… does a very impressive jump up and grabs onto the bar, ending up suspended from it. Then, like he doesn’t weigh anything, he starts doing pull-ups. I can see how his arms tense up each time he goes up, and even though his lips are a bit pursed, he doesn’t seem to be breaking much of a sweat. It’s impressive, actually.

It’s also pretty attractive. I don’t stop to think about it a lot, because I don’t work out myself and I have never really sat and looked at either Michael or Joshua work out, but Michael is pretty strong, actually. I don’t know if it’s because of how short he is, but he looks very thick – very strong. That shirt he’s wearing is doing nothing to hide every muscle in his torso, and even his shorts betray how muscular his thighs are. He’s pretty attractive as well, removing the muscle – even if it’s a bit douchy, that top knot he ties his straight red hair into suits him pretty well, longer on the top than it is on the sides. The beard compliments him pretty well, as well, and I’m shocked at how quick he managed to grow it out. Makes me wonder on some level what other hair in his body is such a bright red color. His shirt riding up his torso lets me see that there’s some peppering of red fur on the white of his belly, which makes me wonder. The normally orange fur coating covering him gives way to white around his mouth and going down his chest and belly, and to dark brown from his elbows to his fingertips, making him look like he’s wearing gloves all the time, only really interrupted by his paw pads and his claws. They’re no feline claws, but they’re claws regardless. If I didn’t know Michael, I’d probably just think he’s some angry douchebag, but… as it stands, right now, I feel that he’s pretty attractive. All the muscle suits him. You’ve got a cute face with hazel eyes, made handsome by his beard, a nice fur pattern, and then all that physical strength. He could really overpower me if he wanted to, even if he is about six inches shorter.

I take a deep breath and look away. What’s happening to me? This is the third time today my mind just wanders into pure thirst for my friends. Did I have something weird this morning? My sight wanders the room, and I swear I can catch Michael smirking through his physical strain. Besides the posters on the walls and the slight mess on the ground, I can’t really say much about the space.

My eyes come to rest on that poster on the wall – the tiger undressing me with his eyes. At this moment, I think of how Michael has more muscle than the model in the photo, and may look better in that swimsuit. I push those thoughts from my head and…

…notice something. Staring closer at the poster, I notice it’s at a bit of a weird height on the wall. Normally you’d put a poster like this a bit higher. Looking closer at it, I notice it’s like it’s not flat against the wall – like the middle part is suspended in mid-air, and there’s something behind it. Some hollow of some sort, maybe, in the shape of a hole in the wall. I crawl towards it and gently put my fingertips to it, feeling that there’s indeed nothing behind—

“Hey.” Michael swings forward and lands loudly. Startled, I turn around, feeling sort of like a kid caught doing something that he shouldn’t have been doing. “Nobody tell you that you shouldn’t just touch other people’s shit without their permission?”

“Oh… sorry, I just saw that—“

“Yeah, I know what you saw.” He’s gasping for air a bit. I can’t tell if it’s because of his physical exertion or because he’s angry that he’s frowning like this. “Just don’t worry about that, alright? Was an accident and that poster’s there for a reason.”

“Oh… alright.” I shouldn’t try to prod further. There’s got to be a reason he stopped working out right as I touched that, and called me out. “Right, sorry for just… doing that.”

“Oh, whatever, dude. Just don’t do it again, ‘kay?” Michael crouches down next to the mini-fridge, and opens it, grabbing a can of beer… before putting it back. “…fuck am I doing? I need better hydration than this after working out.” He leaves the room and after a bit I can hear the faucet in the kitchen opening. Probably pouring himself a glass of water. He comes back before long, and I can’t tell if that’s because he doesn’t want to leave me alone in the apartment. He downs the glass of water in one gulp and then sets it down on the nightstand. What was the point of pouring it into a glass and bringing it all the way here, then…? “So, anyways, you wanna just shoot the shit for a bit? You already examined my apartment _way too much_ so you might as well hang out a bit.”

I can’t tell if that’s a threat. “Oh, sure! Yeah, we could catch up a bit, hopefully in… less grim circumstances.” I scoot over towards the edge of the bed and he unceremoniously flops down on it once more, though I can tell he’s a bit sweatier than before. Laying there, he talks to me, and we keep talking for some time.

After a while, though, my stomach growls. He chuckles. “Damn, alright.”

“Oh… right, I was supposed to go have lunch with Tyler. I’ll shoot him a message.”

While I fish out my phone and type, Michael speaks. “Right, that’s good, ‘cause I don’t have any food for you here.” He gets up and stretches. “Gonna escort you out of the house so you don’t cause any trouble.”

Tyler’s icon flashes to life and he types a message before long.

‘ok

^_^’

I wonder how old he is.

“Yeah, Ty’s ready to receive me.”

“Kinky.”

I sigh. “Not what I mean… oh, never mind.” I pocket my phone and stand up. “Oh, actually, can I use your bathroom before I go?”

“…sure? It’s a bathroom, you don’t really need permission to use it.”

I blink a couple of times before heading to the bathroom. I haven’t gone since this morning and I’m starting to feel it. I get in, lock the door and flick the lights on. It doesn’t take me very long to finish my business. As I’m zipping up, I feel I shouldn’t look at my reflection – what happened this morning still fresh in my mind. I sneak a glance and…

…nothing’s there. It’s just me. Alright. I wash my hands, shake them a bit to get the excess water off, and open the door—

—to an endless chasm in front of me.

I blink.

There’s nothing in front of me. Nothing upon nothing stretching on for who knows how long – the bathroom light doesn’t illuminate anything a few feet in front of my face. I stretch my hand out into the darkness, meeting no resistance. I crouch down, pawing at where the ground should be, and feel nothing as well. What? I was in Michael’s apartment just a few minutes ago, so what is… _what?_

“Hey.”

Michael’s voice rings out in front of me. I blink, and the void is gone. I’m standing, and Michael is in front of me, looking up at me. “Uh…”

“Fuck’s sake, it’s been one day and Joshua’s already rubbing off on you. You were just standing there staring at nothing until I talked to you.” He groans. “Can you at least not have an existential crisis in my bathroom?”

Wait, what?

“Hold on, what was that?”

“What was what?”

Something keeps me from asking about that comment further, but it’s burning in the back of my head for whatever reason. “No, nothing. Sorry, won’t happen again.”

“Jesus. You people are a bunch of freaks. Anyways, Ty’s waiting for you. You wouldn’t keep the big guy from having lunch, would you?”

“Oh!” The realization jolts me back to reality. “Right! Yeah, I have to go.”

Michael escorts me to the entrance and, after putting on my shoes and saying goodbye, I walk out. It’s true that Tyler is waiting for me, and mulling over what I saw is going to get me nowhere.

That… makes three weird things I’ve seen today though. Maybe I’m just not used to how the water is here, and that meal Joshua gave me was cooked with that water. That’s the only explanation I can find, at least.


	6. Sunday's Chains (Part 4)

What starts as a brisk walk as I leave Michael’s apartment soon turns into a light jog as I realize how long I’ve kept Tyler waiting. I can’t believe I really let it become half past our agreed upon meeting time. I don’t know what he’s even doing right now.

As I jog, I whip out my phone and shoot him a message.

‘Hey, are you already waiting there?’

The response comes almost instantaneously.

‘yes’

‘why :o’

Shit.

‘Nothing, I’m going there’

It feels bad to think I really left him waiting there like that. I’m not sure how long he’s been waiting, actually, but for all I know he’s been there for the whole half hour. Maybe he even got there a bit earlier. Oh no.

I’m sure the security guards of the supermarket chain are looking at me funny as I jog, a bit out of air, into the establishment. I just hope I’m not sweating too visibly – a shower and deodorant can’t really do much against being worked up and sweating. God bless the fact that New Blackden is so cold so I don’t have to worry about sweating otherwise… but I really want to take my jacket off.

I swerve into the food court, scanning the mostly empty tables to see if I can spot Tyler… which proves to be incredibly easy because it’s pretty hard to miss a six foot two, bulky bear in a crowd, much less a mostly empty establishment. These sorts of places tend to fill out a lot in big cities, but I guess a tiny town like this doesn’t have much of a need for big chain stores. Yet.

Tyler is holding something in his hands, which he is focusing on intensely. I can tell it’s a portable game console, but I can’t tell which kind from here – not that it matters, because he looks up with a start as I walk into view. He looks around in what looks to be a mild panic before spotting me… and then he smiles and waves at me, trying to indicate where he is… like he’s hard to miss and like I’m not looking at him directly already. He goes back to his game for a few seconds, before I see the light on the console shut down and he puts it in his pocket. Maybe he was saving and closing.

“H…” I realize how tired I am when I try to speak, standing next to him. Tired, and rather out of breath. This is embarrassing. I really should start working out. After a few deep breaths, I try to speak again. “Hey… sorry for leaving you waiting here, Ty.”

“Oh, it’s alright!” He softly grins at me, closing his eyes. “It wasn’t that long, anyways.”

Huh. “…did you get here on time, Ty?”

“Mm, yeah!”

I pause. “…it’s been half an hour since the time I said I’d arrive at.”

He blinks a couple of times, before pulling out his phone and presumably checking the time on it. “Oh…” He scratches the back of his head, pocketing the phone again. “I… guess it has been a half hour, yeah.” He looks down, unsure of what to say. “B-but that’s fine as well!” Yet, he beams at me regardless. Endless wellspring of good cheer.

I take a seat, still embarrassed that I arrived so late, and take off my jacket, putting it on the seat next to me on the table. “Hey, you don’t have to make excuses for me. Anyways, I saw you were playing something?”

His eyes light up, like a switch’s been flicked behind his head. “Oh, yes! I was—“ He shoots a hand towards his pocket to get the game console out, before stopping himself and pulling it out more carefully. Probably a consequence of an incident he had once. Maybe he dropped a console in a hasty gesture like that once before. He pulls it out, turns it on, opens a game, and puts it on the desk. “It’s this game that came out recently! I was sent a review copy, but it’s from a series that I really like, so I’d have bought it anyways, really!”

“Oh, that sounds nice.” I’ve never been big on video games to the same extent Tyler has, but I like to play stuff from time to time. I grab the console, noting how it feels slightly sweaty in my hands. After the company logos, the game’s title appears. I press start… and then set the console down again. “Hey, Ty.”

“Hm?” He arches his eyebrows.

“I can’t play this.”

“W-why?” He sounds almost worried.

“Well.” I turn the console back to him. “It’s all in Japanese, man. I don’t speak the language.”

“O-oh, right, I was sent an early pre-translation copy to review the game before the localization is finished…”

I chuckle. “Hey, I wanted to check it out, it’s alright. I guess you can speak a whole other language yet forget not everyone has that skill, huh?”

Ty lets out a sigh. “I guess… you’ll just have to check the review later.”

“And hey, it’s still impressive that you really went and taught yourself Japanese just to play video games and watch anime before it’s translated – if it’s translated at all.

Tyler scratches the back of his head while bowing to me and saying something that I know, from anime, to be an apology in Japanese. Go figure. There’s a nice twinkle to his bright blue eyes as he says it.

That does get me thinking – I think Brett and I are the only people in the gang that don’t really speak another language fluently. We all speak English, but Tyler taught himself Japanese and sometimes he has conversations in the language online, Michael’s parents taught him Korean, and Joshua’s first language is Spanish. Funny how that works out. Just a feature of our generation, I guess?

“A good sumimasen to you too, Ty.” I chuckle. “You do that a lot, huh? Playing stuff before it comes out here.”

“Yeah! If the import costs don’t kill me, that is. Sometimes stuff just doesn’t come out here, so I have to do that, if I want to watch some shows or play some games from series I like. That, or sometimes it takes forever to come out, and… but, well, sometimes there’s bug fixes that happen when the games get translated… aaah, it’s a bit of a mess.” He grimaces, closing one eye and looking off to the side.

“Hey, just a consequence of the field you wanted to go into, no? I guess you’ll just have to cope with—“

I’m rudely interrupted by my stomach growling, loudly. Tyler’s eyes go wide and he blushes. “O-oh, maybe we should go order our food instead.” He gets up, stumbling a bit, and I follow shortly after. I _do_ want to keep talking, but I might keel over in hunger if I don’t put something in my body soon. It’s been a long day and I’ve talked a lot. As we get up, Tyler looks around. “Oh… do you see any restaurant that you wanna order at?”

“Hm…” I have to say the answer is no. Even if I really need food in my body urgently, I can’t say any of the restaurants in the food court really tickles my fancy right now. The selection isn’t quite as big as what you’d find in the malls in the big city, but it’s still got a lot of variety. “Not really. Do you?”

“Yeah, there.” He points at a restaurant, pulling the edges of his t-shirt down so they don’t ride up his belly. A fast food restaurant. Simple affair.

“Right, you go order your food and I’ll see if anything catches my attention, yeah?” I pat his shoulder – I try to as elegantly as I can, because Tyler towers over me.

“Oh… okay.” I see him go off towards the restaurant and stand at a distance, looking at the menu. I go and look at all the restaurants, one by one, to see if anything interests me… coming back empty-handed. I’m not even a picky eater, so I don’t get why I can’t really decide. Being shown that game by Tyler has my mind running, though – I wonder if they have a Japanese restaurant here…

As I scan the selection of restaurants, I spot Tyler, still standing some feet away from the fast food restaurant. I can’t see from this position what his face looks like. It looks like he didn’t order at all. I walk up to him from the side, and I can see he’s frowning and grabbing his left arm with his right hand… it’s hard to tell if he’s just that lost in thought, or if something else happened to leave him this pensive. He doesn’t seem to notice me approaching. “Hey, Ty?”

He jumps a bit, eyes going wide as he turns to look at me. “Oh! Oh, hi, James.”

“Did you order already?”

“Not… yet.”

“Don’t know what to order?” Though I say that, it’s not like there’s much in the way of options – it _is_ just a fast food restaurant after all.

“Yeah, I know, it’s just that… a-actually, no, I don’t know yet…” He seems sad, almost, as he looks down.

This is a bit weird and concerning. “Hey, actually, what if we order together?”

His ears perk up as I make the proposal. “Oh, s-sure.”

“Great, let’s go, then.” As we approach the restaurant, I can tell the cashier’s been staring at Tyler for a while. As I walk up to the counter, Tyler in tow, their attention switches to me, and whatever it is that I’m about to say. “Hi, I’d like to order a…” I haven’t actually looked at the menu yet, but one glance at it lets me know what to order. “A double cheeseburger combo, please.” A burger with two patties in it, some French fries, and a cup of soda. Simple. “My friend here would like…”

I look at Tyler. “Um… I-I’d like…” He scratches the back of his head and blushes. “Just what you ordered, James…”

I blink a couple of times, before turning back to the cashier. “Another double cheeseburger combo.” The cashier rings up our orders, we pay, and we don’t really need to walk back to the table to wait because they were already preparing a bunch of patties, so, within two minutes, we have our food. Putting the fast in fast food. We grab our trays and head back to our table. I start scarfing down my fries while Tyler bashfully takes a bite out of his burger.

I can’t really explain why, but that whole exchange felt uncomfortable – like Tyler seriously didn’t want to be there.

“Hey, Ty.”

“Hm?” He has his mouth full of food and there’s some ketchup on the corners of his mouth.

I eat a few more fries before speaking again. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, and I hope you don’t take this the wrong way – and also I know cheat days are a thing – but last time we spoke you said you were trying to lose weight…” I pause. I hope I don’t sound rude. “Like, I know what it looks like when I say this right after you order a burger and eat it, but I’m curious to know if you kept up with that.”

“Mm.” He finishes chewing his food and washes it down with some soda. “Um… I kinda gave up on that.” He looks down.

“Oh?”

“Yeah… nothing I was doing seemed to be working, so I just gave up on trying, to be honest.”

That’s a bit sad. “I bet it wasn’t really that bad…”

“No, it was, it was like I’m just… predisposed to have this kind of build. Maybe something from childhood, maybe that I’m a bear. I don’t know.” He takes another bite out of his burger. “Oh, but…”

“Yeah?”

“Joshua told me that if I didn’t want to lose weight I could start lifting weights! It’d be good for my health anyways, and he said that I’d probably make great progress because of the build I have!” He’s beaming at me again, and I’m grateful. “He called me an ecto… I don’t remember what word he used actually. But, basically, that I seem to gain weight very easy, and that includes muscle! So that’d help with my joint concerns.”

“I’m glad.” I finish my fries. “You already began, right?”

“Oh? H-haha, yeah…” He blushes and looks off to the side. “I began like… a year ago. Can you tell?”

“I could tell the moment I saw you. It really shows, Ty.”

He blushes harder and it’s like he’s trying to hide his face in his own shoulders. “S-stop…” He’s pretty bashful for someone this big. Big and getting bigger. I wasn’t lying when I said I noticed he was bigger – and I was going to pose the question anyways. I guess I _am_ the only person in the group that doesn’t lift weights or work out regularly somehow…

I chuckle and go back to my food.

“…but thanks, though.” That’s a really cute face he’s making at me.

The rest of our lunch goes by pretty uneventfully, because I’m too busy stuffing my face with food to quell my hunger to really propose any topics to talk. Tyler doesn’t make much of an effort to talk either, but he looks content enough that I don’t really worry about it. I finish before Tyler does and, judging by his facial expression, neither of us really expected that to happen. He starts eating faster as I signal to him to wait – to take his time – because the last thing I need is having to apply the Heimlich maneuver on someone that’s this big. He finishes before long as well, and after putting the trays back and throwing the trash away, we walk off to his house. We don’t really get to talk a lot on the way there, either, because it’s pretty close to the supermarket. A short walk across from the town hall, and we’re at the group of houses that Tyler’s house is located in. New Blackden is still a pretty small town, all things considered.

As we get to the entrance to Tyler’s house – a one story house, a bit simpler than Joshua’s house but cozy all the same – while he talks extensively about the game series the game he was playing belongs to, he fishes out his keys from his pocket. He unlocks the door, opens it—

—then closes it again. “Oh! Actually… wait here a bit. Sorry! I need to do something in the house, I’ll be right back!” Then, he walks in and locks the door behind himself.

Interesting. I haven’t even entered his house and I’m already being kicked out. Without anything better to do, I lean back against the door, my antlers hitting the wood, and I pull out my phone. No new messages, which is to be expected, because I’m really just hanging out with everyone today, and Joshua is supposed to be busy right now with work, so not even he would want to message me.

It shows that his last online time was this morning and all. I guess he really focuses on that stuff.

I browse some art galleries on social media, liking stuff that tickles my fancy or saving it. Some of this could serve as good inspirations for when I paint. Thinking about that, I really should paint sometime soon. I’ve got a bunch of landscapes here to practice on, because the forests of Ontario and the lakes are beautiful, but I’ve also… perhaps got a few subjects to paint portraits of. It depends. I could probably very easily convince Joshua to sit still for a sketch and portrait, and maybe Tyler. Brett might get bored after a while, and I honestly doubt Michael would even consider the idea. He’ll probably tell me to just snap a photo of him and then paint that, but it’s just… not the same. You don’t get the same perception of depth from a photo as you do from having the model in front of you, so having a live model is the best thing when you want to paint. I’ve got some supplies in my luggage, too, so I could really do this whenever and at any of their houses… maybe some portraits would make for nice gifts. I haven’t actually painted or drawn anything for any of the gang in a while, and maybe they’d like it.

I catch myself as my mind starts to wander and check the time on my phone. It’s been ten minutes since Tyler told me to wait outside. I try to push my ears against the door, but can’t catch much sound inside. Maybe Tyler’s deeper in the house? It’s not the biggest house in the world, but it’s definitely larger than an apartment. Is Tyler just getting back at me for making him wait a half hour for lunch? I still feel bad about that, but that doesn’t sound like something Ty would do.

I knock on the door and yell. “Tyler? Are you okay?”

I hear a yelp and then the sound of many metallic things suddenly hitting the ground, loud crashing from the inside of the house. Maybe calling out to him was a mistake. He yells back. “Y-y-yeah! I’ll be right there, give me just a minute!” I hear what I can only assume is him hastily picking things up and tossing them to a side, if the other crashing sounds are any indication. “O-oh man…”

It doesn’t take long for him to sprint towards the door again, and I know he was running because he crashes into it. He lets out another yelp. It’s impressive to me how clumsy this man is. Finally, he unlocks the door and bashfully opens it, scratching the back of his head and bowing. “Sorry about that! You can come in now!”

He looks a mess, honestly. He’s got some sort of white dust on his lap. “Hey, you have…”

“…huh?”

I point at his lap. He looks down, blushes, and furiously swipes it away. “S-sorry! That’s… uh…” He pauses for a few seconds. “…actually, I can’t tell you what that is!”

“Uh huh.” I arch an eyebrow and smile. “Keep your secrets, then.” At the very least I’m sure it’s not drugs, because that’s just not something Tyler would do. I step in, trying not to stare too much at the pots hastily hidden under curtains or blankets – Tyler did a really awful job of hiding whatever it is that he was doing while I waited outside, but I also can’t tell exactly what he did. Still, if he went through all this effort to hide it, I probably shouldn’t go and ask.

The door locks behind me, the lock clicking into place. “Ah, sorry about the mess…”

“It’s alright. I’m just gonna take a look around the place now, if that’s alright with you?”

“Oh? Oh, right, you’re checking out our houses to see where to stay. I’ll just go to my room while you’re checking the place out, then!”

“Oh, alright. I’ll go there when I’m done.”

I don’t really have to check out a whole lot here because Tyler’s been living here for a bit – I’ve been here before. I just haven’t checked out the place very closely. It’s a bit more sparsely decorated than Michael’s (obviously not decorated by himself) apartment, but it’s still nice and cozy. You could reasonably call this “minimalistic” if it wasn’t obviously the product of Tyler simply not wanting to decorate a lot more. I guess it’s what happens when you don’t really leave your room a lot and also don’t really receive a lot of visits. There’s a group of seats for visits to sit on and talk to each other, and a coffee table in the middle, but not much on it or around that area, for example. Of course, this isn’t taking into account all the stuff Tyler hastily hid, bless his heart. His kitchen is obviously roomier than Brett and Michael’s, but he doesn’t seem to cook terribly often, if the pristine cleanliness of the stovetop is any indication. Noticing that the oven is on, and that a sweet smell is wafting out of it, I feel I can guess what Tyler was doing when he locked me out of the house for ten minutes… but I cannot for the life of me guess why he had to lock me out to go do that. Maybe a surprise. That’s nice of him. Progressing further into the house I spot a bathroom, an empty and unused bedroom, and a door that I know leads to Tyler’s basement. This house has an unreasonably roomy and well-made basement, that Tyler doesn’t use for anything besides storing things. No reason to go down there now. The door is slightly ajar, so I figure I might as well do him a favor and close it.

I grab the doorknob, and a pale white hand grabs the opposite doorknob and pulls the door closed.

I blink. I probably shouldn’t stay near this door long, but I don’t know what that was all about either. Should I tell Tyler?

As I finally walk into his room, I notice him staring at a laptop. I turn to check out what he’s looking at and see an open blank document, and a webcam attached to the top of the laptop on, with an LED light on it shining, showing that it’s currently active. What I notice directly after the setup I don’t understand is that Tyler’s breathing is slow and heavy, like he’s truly deep in thought while looking at these things. I move to stand at his side and see that he’s got the same worried, sad expression he had earlier at the food court. It takes me some effort to put a name to it, but finally I recognize it. Anxiety.

“Ty?”

Again, Tyler jumps and yelps as I speak. “Oh! Are you done?”

“Yeah.” I point at the laptop. “Hey, is something wrong?”

His eyebrows arch, like he’s caught by surprise. He turns to the laptop and closes it, setting the webcam right next to it – it looks decently high tech, which might explain why he isn’t just using the laptop’s integrated cam. Maybe something he got for work. “No, nothing! Just something for work that I need to work on, but you didn’t come here to see me work!” He shoots me a smile, but I can feel he’s still mildly anxious.

Just what happened to him to become like this? First a cashier in a restaurant and now his literal work? I knew he had a few problems with being shy before, but it feels like they all got markedly worse in my absence, somehow. I’ve kept up with all these people, right? How did their problems just worsen so much?

No use trying to force an answer out of him, I suppose. I’m not really here to grill him on his issues. “Alright. Hey, let’s talk about something else. I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

“Oh, yeah!” He grins and sits on the bed, pointing at a bean bag for me to sit on. I take one last look at the room from my usual height, noticing it’s a lot more decorated than the rest of the house – though perhaps not in any publicly elegant way. The wall behind the desk is lined completely with video game and anime posters, without so much as an inch of space left on it. There’s some collectibles and plushes on shelves along the wall as well, like all of Tyler’s hobbies have been concentrated on one end of the room. A large closet acts as another wall and, though I’m not about to open it to check, I can only assume it’s mostly devoid of clothes because Tyler prefers to dress comfy and doesn’t really have anything terribly showy (that, or it’s full of more toys and plushes he couldn’t fit on the shelves). Of course, there’s a desk with a laptop on it. Tyler would probably own an actual PC if he wasn’t more of a console gamer. The nightstand next to his bed has a few books on it, but it looks about as cluttered as what I can only dub the fandom wall. His bed is pretty large and looks comfy and fluffy. I’d almost want to lay down on it if it wasn’t because Tyler is occupying it, and I doubt he’d just accept an offer to lay down with me.

What am I thinking?

I slowly sit on the bean bag, feeling how it basically engulfs me. I’m not used to this kind of seating. “Anyways, you were saying?”

“Well, work’s been great! People like my reviews and the articles I make for the game sites I work for, and I’m basically being rewarded with more work!”

I pause. “That doesn’t really sound like a good thing, you know.”

“O-oh, I guess that’s true… but that means I get paid more and I like what I do! Though…”

I turn to face him – as much as I can, considering the kind of seat I’m in.

“You know how the site I work for also produces videos? Well, a lot of people apparently want me to start appearing on them, to speak about stuff…”

“Well, that’s great, isn’t it? That’s surely good for your resume.”

“Well… yeah, I guess! It’s just a bit uncomfortable, moving from exclusively writing stuff to suddenly having to do video, haha…”

I can tell it makes him uncomfortable, but I don’t know how I can really help with that. I look back at the TV and notice the impressive amount of consoles under it. “Hey.”

“Huh?”

“It’s been a while since I last played anything. Do you think we could play something a bit until I have to go?”

His eyes light up again, and he crawls forward towards the consoles. “Oh, yes! Lemme… pick something out…”

I try not to think hard about the fact that he’s alternating between being on all fours on the bed and being on his knees. As much as I try, I can’t stop thinking of how attractive he is. He definitely doesn’t have the sort of mature charm that Joshua and Michael have going on, because he’s a lot more adorable than he is handsome, but he’s got some blue eyes that you could definitely get lost in. Cute, chubby cheeks, and the messy tuft of brown headfur on his head, coupled with the small, rounded ears, definitely make him look adorable. Still, he’s pretty impressively bulky – he has a pretty broad back, and his arms and chest have definitely gotten thicker from all the weightlifting he has done. I wonder where he keeps the weights. I wonder how much he can lift. He is girthy, yet very solid all over, and looking at him like this, my main thought is that he looks incredibly soft, warm and cuddly. The fact that between his blue t-shirt and his dark blue sweatpants I can spot a stretch of belly doesn’t help matters at all – he looks incredibly fluffy as well. The only thing breaking how soft and cuddly he looks is how solid the black claws on his fingers look, but he keeps those neatly trimmed and filed down as well, so I can’t complain too much. I wonder if he’d accept if I proposed cuddles. I wonder how he’d react. I wonder how much he’d blush and stammer over his own words, trying to think of what to respond. I wonder how it’d feel.

“Ah, found something!” With that, he boots up one of the game consoles under the TV and puts a disc inside it. That makes… four of my friends that I’ve found so attractive today I’ve been lost in thoughts thinking about how attractive I find them. What’s happening to me? I get that I only recently discovered I’m gay, but this is ridiculous. It’s like I’m a hormonal teenager discovering his friends are hot for the first time… which isn’t wholly off the mark, but still.

I break out of my thoughts when Tyler hands me a controller. It’s been a while since I felt this familiar weight. “Okay, what are we playing, then?”

“A fighting game!”

Oh boy.

…

After several rounds of Tyler completely dominating me in matches I accept my concerns were legitimate. I shouldn’t be surprised that someone that plays video games for a living is unreasonably good at them, but seeing that ratio of wins to losses on the screen stings a bit. I can tell he even tried to go easy on me at several points and yet I kept losing. Do I have to train my video game skills at the same time as I work out? My plans are full now that I’m going to be living here, I guess.

“H-hey… you almost beat me in that round!” Tyler tries to give me a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“No I didn’t, Ty. Come on.” I chuckle.

He grimaces and looks away, and I take that as confirmation that, indeed, I didn’t almost beat him. Pulling out my phone, I realize night’s going to fall soon. As I get up, Tyler speaks. “Do you have to go now?”

“Yeah. I know this part of town is safer, but I still don’t think I want to be walking around late at night, and I gotta get back to Joshua’s to stay the night.”

“Oh, you’re right…” Tyler hops off the bed. “Well, it was nice having you—oh, wait, before you go! I wanted to mention that, um…”

Is he going to mention the baking now?

“I’ve been getting into baking lately, and…”

There we go.

“I just wanted to make something to give you! You know, before you go and all.”

“Oh, sure!” I had tuned it out because we were playing, but the sweet smell now fills even the room we’re in. Actually, it’s past just a sweet smell now. “That explains the… smell… Tyler, how long ago did you put that in the oven?”

His eyes go wide and he runs out of the room, presumably at the kitchen. I don’t know if I should follow. I hear the oven door swing open and I also hear Tyler yelp. I hear him try to do _something_ hastily and, before long, he returns to the room with a plate of cookies in hand. “Ah… I completely forgot I put these in the oven, I was too focused on the game…”

“Well, nothing bad happened, but you probably should keep an eye on that stuff more closely in the future. Or, at least, keep a fire extinguisher in the kitchen.” I give him a patient smile and pat his (incredibly solid) shoulder. I grab one of the cookies… the edges are a bit burnt, but the middle should still be okay. As I bite into the cookie, I’m impressed by how… bland it tastes. Tyler didn’t put enough sugar in them, and it’s like biting into cooked oatmeal, almost.

“Well, how is it?”

“It’s good. Could use some improvements, but you’re still learning, so it’s alright.” I smile at him, taking another bite out of the cookie. It’s not that bad.

“Oh, I’m glad… I’ll have some later tonight. Do you want to take some with you?”

“Oh, sure.”

Tyler leaves again, and I use the absence to stretch out – sitting in a bean bag for a long time has to be hell on the back. He comes back with a few cookies in a plastic container, and hands it to me. “Here! Just bring me the container back tomorrow.”

Right, tomorrow. That’s when I’m having that party they talked about. “I’ll make sure to eat all the cookies tonight to have the container ready for you tomorrow, then.”

“Haha, don’t overeat, though! Maybe you could give some to Joshua. I don’t know if he eats this sort of stuff, though…”

“I could always try, for sure.” I look out the window and notice how late it’s gotten. “Well, I feel I should—”

Tyler yelps once more, jumping slightly. This time I didn’t talk to him and didn’t do anything to him, and he’s aware of my presence, so I wonder what’s happening. “Ow…”

“Hey, what happened?”

“Oh, it’s just… every now and then I get this… stabbing pain in my lower back… it’s sudden, it comes out of nowhere, and it’s so uncomfortable…”

I say nothing.

“It only really happens when I’m here at home, and gets better when I go over to someone else’s house, so maybe it has to do with my health? Since walking seems to help with it… I hope the weights Joshua lent me help with it…”

As he says that, I’m reminded of what I saw for a split second near the door leading to Tyler’s basement. I can’t stop thinking of the long sharp fingers that wrapped around that other doorknob. I also can’t stop thinking about how, from where he’s standing, facing me, and under the doorframe, Tyler has his back on the rest of the house, which sits in darkness.

For a split second, I swear I see a white hand out the corner of my sight, in the darkness, being dragged away. I blink. “I hope it helps, yeah.” No use bringing it up.

“Yeah… anyways, I think I’ve held you here enough! Go back to Joshua’s and get some good sleep in, ‘cause you’ve got some fun prepared for tomorrow!”

“I will, Ty. Thank you.” I bow one last time before walking out of his room. I try to sneakily shoot a glance to the side – to where I know the door to his basement is.

I can’t really see it terribly well from here, in darkness, but I think it’s slightly agape again.

A white hand’s long fingers wrap around the edge of the door, and I look away, walking towards the exit. Tyler follows me and seems to not notice anything.

Saying goodbye one last time, I open the door and walk out, the cool afternoon air hitting my nostrils. Tyler locks the door behind me. Time to head back to Joshua’s house.

Today was an interesting day, for sure.


	7. Sunday's Chains (Part 5)

Fortunately, I don’t really have to hurry, since Joshua told me to just be back by night but didn’t give me a specific timeline. I don’t think he really minds staying up late, but I’d still like to be there before sundown. The sun’s last rays fade out over the horizon and the street lights turn on. It’s to be expected of a tiny town like this, but they’re vastly sparser than they would be in a big city. As a result, everything’s darker, and since there’s nobody really outside at this time of day in this part of town… the end result is a bit creepy.

Of course, that’s the end of that, because Tyler’s house isn’t really that far from Joshua’s, and I can comfortably get to Joshua’s walking before long. The lights inside are on, on the first floor, for some reason. Weird. I’d have imagined that he’d work in his bedroom, but I also don’t really know what his work involves, so I can’t really be too shocked. Maybe he’s already done and is just taking a break.

I come to a stop in front of his house and look up at it. Having spent the whole day over at Brett’s, Michael’s and Tyler’s really lampshades how big this house is when compared to theirs, even if it doesn’t actually fit the bill for a mansion at all. It’s just bigger, wider, and actually has two floors. Joshua must make some good money with his work to be able to afford to live in a place like this all alone. STEM major salaries, I guess.

I take a step forward… and a chill runs down my spine. I look towards the right. A consequence of Brett and Joshua’s houses being on opposite ends of town is that the town just ends at their places, leaving them right next to the forest. The trees are still so dense in those areas that it’s dark inside even in the middle of the day, so at night and with no light shining into them, they’re impenetrable seas of darkness. People say that if Bigfoot exists, it surely has to exist in the forests of Ontario. I wonder how that myth even came to be – maybe someone really fluffy was wandering around a forest naked and someone else couldn’t identify what they were.

I _do_ feel like I’m being watched, though. I try to focus my gaze but I don’t catch anything in particular – maybe I should get glasses. The shining dots in the darkness could be local wildlife as much as they could be something else entirely. I think I spot the rough outline of antlers, but it’s like something about them is wrong. A hand goes to my own short antlers, almost instinctively. It’s weird to think that there’s wild animals out there just running around with these as well.

The crack of a branch breaking in the forest breaks the silence, and the dots of light disappear. I’d imagine that they would disappear in pairs if they were indeed animals scurrying into the forest, but… some don’t. Some disappear alone, some in bigger groups.

I blink and turn back to the door of Joshua’s house. No use worrying about that. I walk up towards it, raise a finger to touch the doorbell—

The door swings open before I can do anything. Behind it, the man that opened the door looks back at an unseen person. He turns to me and has to look down to spot me. I don’t know this person. He’s a deer as well, and I can’t help feeling that he looks like me, except more attractive in every aspect. Taller, more fit, more handsome, in tighter clothes than me, with bigger antlers… but with a pretty similar haircut and fur color.

He blinks a couple of times while looking down at me. “Haha, hey! You’ve got some visit! This the dude that’s staying with you?” He talks to who I can only assume to be Joshua, outside my view.

I clear my throat. “I’m sorry, I don’t know you.”

“Oh, I’m just one of your buddy here’s friends. Was visiting.” He smiles at me, but something about the gesture bothers me.

“Oh. Alright.” I scratch the back of my head. “Sorry for questioning you when I just met you. My name’s James.”

His eyes go wide. “Oh, you’re _James!_ ” What? Has Joshua talked about me before? “Well, I think I’ve been here long enough. Gonna leave you two to do whatever.” The man sidesteps me before looking back into the house, talking to someone inside. “And, hey, if this is your new roommate, make a move on him. He’s _pretty_ cute, if I do say so myself!” He winks at me while nudging my shoulder.

My ears burn a bit before the man leaves. Turning to the house again, I see Joshua slowly walk into view, looking outside as a hand comes to rest on the edge of the open door. Dressed in a black tank top and blue jeans, as I’d assume. He’s blinking slowly as he watches the man leave… or so I think, until I notice his sight is unfocused. His mane is a bit messy as well. What happened while I wasn’t here?

Joshua blinks a couple of times and his gaze focuses on me. “…oh, you’re back.”

“I sure am!” I chuckle and step inside, Joshua closing the door behind me.

“Right.”

“Who was that, by the way? I don’t know him.”

Joshua pauses for a couple of seconds. “What did he tell you?”

Huh? “He just said he was a friend of yours before leaving.”

“I see.” Joshua clears his throat. “Right. Dinner. Sit on the bar and I’ll whip something up.”

That reminds me. “Oh, look, Tyler sent these! He said he’s getting into baking.” I lift up the plastic container with cookies in it.

Joshua takes it from my hands. “He did mention something like that, yeah.” He opens the container, takes a cookie, and takes a bite out of it. “They’re… a bit bland.”

“Yeah, I felt the same… he needs a bit of practice, but it’s pretty good for a first attempt. Or, at least, I’m guessing it’s a first attempt.”

“It might be. Baking is more annoying than regular cooking, so I guess I can let it slide, so to speak.” Somehow, he fits the rest of the cookie all in his mouth before closing the container and putting it on the bar. That’s a really roomy mouth he’s got, huh.

Interesting mental images that’s giving me against my will.

I sit on the bar and check my phone while Joshua takes a few things out of the fridge. I hear some chopping and plating, and before I know it there’s a plate in front of me – a cold salad, with bits of chicken thrown in, drizzled in either mayonnaise, some kind of dressing, or both. There’s a fork already in the plate, and he pours me a cup of ice tea as well. “Oh, thank you!” I’m not really hungry, but I’ve got food in front of me right now, so I might as well start eating. It’s delicious. Joshua really knows how to cook well… even if it looks like all these ingredients were already made beforehand.

“Mm.” He leans over the bar, in front of me, arms crossed and elbows resting on the surface.

“I’m curious, though… really, who was that?”

Joshua pauses. “…nobody important. Doesn’t really matter to you, at any rate.”

That’s cold. “Hey, did you just use the fact that I wasn’t here to hook up with someone?” I smirk.

Another pause, followed by a dry chuckle. “Yeah. You got me there.” He looks down and sighs. “Just a hook-up. I don’t know why he told you he was a friend.”

That’s cold. I guess Joshua really likes to keep pleasure separate from the rest of his life. I hate to think about it in these terms, but that man had the same sort of… uncanny, model- or porn star-like handsomeness to him that Joshua himself has going on. I suppose looking like this means that you can afford to have sex with other people that look like that on the regular and casually…

Though that’s not really the main concern in my mind right now. Joshua looks out of it. Way too out of it. Even more than usual, actually. “Hey, are you alright?”

He blinks a couple of times, his gaze focusing on me. “As good as ever. Why?”

“It just feels like you’re really out of it now, Josh. You’re not even eating anything.”

He looks back to the fridge. “I don’t really feel hungry right now. I guess I’m still thinking about work. Sorry.”

“Hm…” Something about that answer feels… profoundly unsatisfying to me.

Joshua looks down, closes his eyes and sighs. “Hey. I’m sorry.”

That, though, catches me off guard. “…huh?”

“I suppose I’ve been a pretty poor host the last couple of days. I’m not… one for conversation, most of the time, and I know people usually find that off-putting.” He pushes his glasses up. “It’s really not my thing, but it’s not like I dislike you or would rather be anywhere else.” He flashes me a small smile.

“Oh, this is… sudden. Did anything prompt this?”

“No, I just felt like I should apologize for being so dull and quiet all the time.” A pause. “That’s a lie. You look happy.”

“Huh?”

“I mean you look like you had a good time.” His brow furrows a bit. “It’s very obvious you had a great time today. Your face looked brighter, there was a slight spring to your step, your voice even got a bit higher. The works.” He rubs his eyes. “Sorry. More stuff that I just pick up on. Anyways, I’ll just… try to be a bit warmer, alright? In the… _day_ you have left with me, since you’re choosing who to stay with tomorrow.”

Shit. He’s right. I know today I visited everyone because I wanted to see who I’d like to stay with, and they all offered, but I’m no closer to making a choice than I was this morning. I remembered why I like all these people, but I also got the feeling they’re all hiding something… and my newfound homosexuality showed me that I’m attracted to all of them as well. And now… I’m getting all of that from Joshua as well. I’m a mess.

“It’s alright, Josh. I know you’re trying.”

He looks down and his ears fall for a split second before he looks back up. “Yeah.” Taking a deep breath, he steps towards the sink, pours himself a cup of water, and downs it in one gulp. “Right. I think I’ll go back to my room now. It’s been a long day and I’m a bit tired. Or… well, I guess you can conclude the hook-up was pretty active, heh.” He puts the cup in the sink and walks towards the stairs. “Good night. You know what to do to get ready for sleep, right?”

Before I can answer, he’s already jogged up the stairs and disappeared from view. I finish my dinner and put the dishes in the sink as well.

Even if I plan to spend some time on the phone before going to bed, I’m yawning before long – I did walk around and talk a lot today, and I guess I’m tired as well. I get ready for bed, turn off my phone, and crawl under that black blanket after turning the lights off. Night falls fast this far north. It doesn’t take me long to drift off…

* * *

Several disconnected images. I swear I know these people, but I can’t identify anyone I’m seeing.

Someone slamming a chair into a wall in a fit of anger. Someone shutting down completely and collapsing into a sobbing mess on the ground. Someone hysterically trying to hide the evidence of _something_ from my view. Someone lying in bed, no life behind their eyes. A gritty warehouse that’s too tall and too big to exist. Caves that open into an altar with lit candles as far as the eye can see. A dense forest and the town in the distance. A jungle and two rows of tiny houses on either side of a small, unpaved road. A hallway so long and a pit so deep it gives me vertigo. Fleshy, white hands with fingers that are just too long and end in sharp points. A copy of my friends and myself. Someone’s face with tears of rage streaming down the cheeks. Someone’s face with the eyes clenched shut and hyperventilating. Someone’s face with the eyes wide open, pupils contracted as far as they can go. Someone’s face twisted into an expression of raw distress and despair, their psyche broken wide open.

A rose growing in an empty eye socket. A rose wrapping around a neck. A rose growing through holes in a chest. A grotesque mass of roses, growing out of a stomach, out through the mouth, and blood everywhere.

An outcropping of rock protruding from the ground, incrusted with quartz, underwater, somewhere near me.

A tree, in a warmer place, in a different time, before all the pain.

A treehouse, incomplete.

That goddamn treehouse.

**_That space you know all too well._ **

…

* * *

I stir awake from my nightmare. I tap my forehead and realize I’m drenched in sweat. I’ll have to tell Joshua to wash this blanket later—

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

It sounds like footsteps above me. Trying to focus my sight on the clock on the wall, I see that it’s probably midnight, or one AM. What’s Joshua doing up at this hour? Maybe he’s working on something still. But didn’t he say that he was tired?

Along with the steps, there’s some muttering I can’t make out. I’d say he’s probably talking to himself, but… it seems to just be one word. I can’t make it out, but it’s short. It almost sounds like a name, though not one I’ve heard of anyone having.

_Bang._

A loud slamming, like he crashed into something, and I jump a little.

You’d think something like that would probably get someone to stop what they’re doing, but… the steps and the voice continue. I cannot for the life of me imagine what Joshua could be doing.

I should probably just go to sleep. He must have a reason.


	8. Monday's Fracture

As I stir awake, I can hear the sound of the shower running upstairs. I turn around and turn on my phone, stretching while it boots. Checking the time… it seems like I overslept a bit. I sniff, and can feel the smell of food, so maybe Joshua already made breakfast but couldn’t serve it to me because I was asleep.

That nightmare from last night… maybe it’s the fact that it woke me up in the middle of the night that made me sleep in. I don’t know what that was all about. It’s not like I’m not used to weird dreams and nightmares, and they happen almost all the time, but this was more… vivid.

I put on yesterday’s t-shirt and pants to avoid what happened yesterday morning, and, sure enough, there’s food on the bar already. Bacon, some diced fruit, a bread roll, and a mug of what looks like hot chocolate. I realize I’m starving as I catch a whiff of the bacon.

As I approach the plate, I notice a yellow post-it note next to it.

‘you were asleep and i wasn’t going to wake you up just for this. no use waking you up early, but i have to go shower and can’t keep waiting. i just hope it doesn’t get cold.

~ j’

It’s always been interesting to me how Joshua writes by hand the same way he types in messages – all lowercases. He has some very neat handwriting, too, and small. You’d expect someone as big as him to write bigger, but nope. Must be all the math he has to do for his work… probably. I’ve never really asked what specifically he does, but surely he had to do a lot of math while studying, right?

As I sit to have breakfast and check my lack of new messages, I’m struck by how good it tastes. I could get used to waking up to this kind of cooking every morning – my breakfasts in school, in the dorm, were really nothing compared to this. It’s not even a complex dish at all, but it’s all well made, and it’s clear he puts effort into his cooking, and the presentation.

When it’s for another person, as far as I know. He’s very content eating reheated stuff from the fridge or eating straight out of the pans and pots. That’s odd.

 _…could get used to waking up to this kind of cooking every morning_ , huh? What an almost romantic thought. I shake my head. No, I just mean that it’d be nice to live here with him. That isn’t much better, now that I say it to myself mentally, but I guess I have the excuse that I’m choosing who to stay with and… come to think of it, Joshua didn’t actually offer his house for me to stay in. But I also never asked. Maybe he’d say yes if I asked him?

I finish my food and wash the dish and the mug before entering the bathroom. Maybe I’m still a bit shaken up by what I saw yesterday, but I don’t really feel comfortable looking at my reflection right now. Something about it feels off – something about the eyes… but I’m probably still imagining things, and still half asleep. I probably shouldn’t worry too much about it. I’ve got a clean change of clothes with me, so I take my old clothes off and step into the shower…

…and that’s when it hits me that I haven’t really masturbated the past couple of days. It feels like an odd realization, since I used to do it every day or every other day when on campus, but I’ve just been so tired and busy these days that it didn’t even cross my mind. Still, standing here, naked and alone… the thought that I could get it out of the way crosses my mind. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so needy – why I’ve had these aggressive thoughts about my friends, that I can’t really explain. Still… should I really do it in Joshua’s bathroom? I guess that it doesn’t matter, because I’m going to end up doing this at another person’s house no matter who I stay with.

Joshua… is naked right now. Naked and wet. I feel a bit dirty thinking that, but that’s a nice mental image. He always ties his mane back whenever we’ve gone swimming, so I wonder what that hair looks like soaking wet and flat against his skin. I really shouldn’t just be having these kinds of dirty thoughts about my friends, but I can’t help remembering the observations I made yesterday about everyone – when Michael was working out and I could see all his muscles tensing up, when Brett was laying back on that bed and that tank top wasn’t covering much, when Tyler was bending over to get those games ready and I could appreciate how much his pants were snug against his skin.

I twitch a little and bite my lip. Deep breaths, James. You can’t do this.

**It will come to you eventually, whether you wish for it to or not. Your flesh longs for the touch, and it shall obtain it one way or the other. Give in to the waves before you drown.**

…

I turn the faucet and let water wash over me, suddenly finding that I don’t want to do anything anymore. It’s a bit cold, because it hasn’t really heated up yet, but that’s fine.

…

After putting on deodorant and getting dressed, I leave the bathroom. You really appreciate how hot a shower is when you open the bathroom door and are hit with cold air. As I finish buttoning up my shirt and walk back to the couch I slept on, I’m greeted by the sight of Joshua, already dressed, checking something out on his phone.

In a black tank top, jeans, and boots.

“Morning.” He doesn’t lift his gaze as he keeps scrolling.

“Oh, good morning, Josh.”

“How’d you like the breakfast?”

“Oh, it was good! Thank you for leaving it out for me.”

“Mm. Least I can do, if I’m not gonna be there to sit with you and make you company while you eat.” He pauses. “Keep you company. You get me.”

“No, it’s alright, I understood the first time.” I sit on the couch while I put my dirty laundry inside my bag. That’s gonna be an interesting welcome gift – just having a bunch of clothes that need washing when I arrive at whoever I’m staying with’s house.

Joshua grunts in acknowledgement before setting his phone down and looking at me. “Hey.”

“Hm?”

“I know I was acting a bit weird last night. I’m sorry about that, I was just distracted with some work stuff, and I guess I was too aggressive when talking about the guy that was leaving the house. You looked taken aback, but I just didn’t… have it in me to address it.” He blinks at me slowly.

“It’s alright, Josh. These things happen.” I flash him a small smile.

He looks down at the ground and takes a deep breath.

“Though…”

His sight perks up as he hears me again.

“Is everything alright? You’ve been acting a bit off the whole time I’ve been here.” I don’t know how to explain it, but he’s been a lot… drier. More dead.

With his gaze still fixed on me, he mutters something that I don’t quite catch. I feel it sounds like… complaining. Something about not being asked something.

He arches an eyebrow, still looking at me. I feel put on the spot.

“Oh, uh… I mean…” I continue. “I don’t know how else to put it, but have you been feeling like yourself? Like, haven’t you been feeling a bit weird?”

“I haven’t felt like myself in six years.”

I blink. That muttering reached my ears perfectly. “Huh?”

“Hm? What happened?” He arches his eyebrows and leans back on the couch.

“You just…”

He blinks a couple of times, still looking at me, and lets out a sigh. “Did I just say something weird?”

“ _Yes?_ ” What? Does he not realize what just left his mouth?

He closes his eyes and leans forward, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I’m sorry. I’ve been having this… issue where sometimes I just end up blurting the first thing that comes to my mind without realizing it. It usually doesn’t make any sense, and I usually don’t realize I’m doing it, like I’m… narrating my thoughts to myself.” He leans back. “Whatever I said wasn’t important, right?”

I don’t really know how to address this situation. “No, but… how long has this been happening?”

His gaze goes blank for a couple of seconds. “I think it’s been a couple of years since I began doing this. Since it was pointed out to me, rather, because it just sounds like my thoughts to me.”

“That’s… weird. Have you had it checked?”

“I think I did. I can’t really remember. It’s not really affecting my daily functioning, so I don’t see why I should worry about it, either.”

I truly do not know what to say to that. I think just talking to yourself like that and not realizing that you’re doing it is cause for concern, but Joshua obviously doesn’t think that is the case… though, I wonder how much I get to rib him about it, considering my incredibly vivid imagination.

Joshua pockets his phone and gets up, pushing his glasses up by the bridge. “Right. We’re leaving in a couple of hours, just so you know. In my car, we’re picking everyone up, and then going to the cliff overlooking town.” He lets out a breath. “I think they don’t want you to see what they’re bringing to eat. Michael even suggested that I blindfold you before putting you in the car. I’m not sure how much of that suggestion was a joke. He might try to bother you if I do that, as well, so I think I just… won’t.” He pauses. “Unless you’re into that, I guess.”

“Oh, oh… no, don’t worry, I think I’ll pass as well.”

 _Am_ I into that?

“Alright. Do you need any help entertaining yourself in this next couple of hours?”

I look around the room a bit. “Oh, I don’t think so, don’t worry. I’ve got some stuff to sketch with in my bag, and I’ve got some music on my phone, so I can just try and do some art!”

He nods. “I’ll just leave you alone for a bit, then.” He turns and leaves the living room. Before long, he returns, leaning on the door frame. “Oh, by the way.”

“Huh?”

He smiles gently. “Welcome back to New Blackden. I figure I should say this at some point.”

Then, he leaves once more. How nice. I take out a sketchbook and some earphones from my messenger bag, plug them in, play an album, and lean back on the couch, sketchbook on my lap…

Then I blank. I was warned that this would happen, but now that I graduated art school and no longer have a forced direction, I need to find myself somehow. I must have some sort of artistic direction – something I like to draw or sketch, or even paint. There’s got to be something that inspires me to create art, or something that I like to create often.

I just take the pencil and start idly doodling whatever comes to mind. A few shapes, some shading. Some trees. The couch in front of me. The album I’m listening to finishes and another one starts up. Some lighting coming in through an open window, a bit of chiaroscuro. My friends. The pattern on a salamander’s skin, the way the fur around a fox’s hands looks like gloves, the softness around a bear’s neck, a lion’s mane. Glasses. Bodies in motion. A house.

A house on a tree.

I blink a couple of times, staring hard at the sheet of paper in front of me, as I realize what I’m drawing. I groan, rip the page from the sketchbook, crumple it up, and get up to toss it in the garbage in the kitchen.

As I enter, Joshua is leaning against the counter, facing away from me, holding something. I walk in front of him to find the garbage can. I find it, toss the drawing in, and see that he’s staring off into space holding a cup of coffee that… looks like it’s already gone cold. “Josh?”

He blinks and looks at me. “Yeah. Are you ready to go? It’s about time, and I was gonna go call you in a bit.”

“Oh… yeah, I’m not really doing anything right now, I guess.”

“You draw anything nice?”

I pause, looking back at the crumpled up piece of paper in the garbage can behind me.

“I’ll take that as a no. Artistic creation takes time and effort, and sometimes it just doesn’t come to you, even if you’ve got a literal degree in the stuff. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Weirdly insightful about art creation. Isn’t he an engineer?

He downs the cup of coffee in his hands in one gulp, puts the empty cup in the sink, and turns. “Right. Time to go. Bring anything you need and meet me by my car.”

I don’t actually need much. I bring a canvas and a foldable easel, along with some paint, because I do want to paint the landscape from the cliff when we get there – or make some progress on that, at least, because I’m sure I won’t be able to finish it in a couple of hours. After climbing in the car, we depart…

…

The arrival to the cliff overlooking town is rather uneventful. Joshua’s driving, Tyler’s in the passenger seat, and I’m squeezed between Michael and Brett in the back, buckled into the middle. I’ve known I’m the smallest person in the group for a bit, but having it driven home like this feels different. Joshua looking at the back seat when we got to Brett’s apartment, saying that the smallest person should go in the middle, and then, almost without hesitation, saying that I should do it… I’m almost embarrassed. The only other thing that really happened was Tyler asking me to turn away from his house while he brought _something_ to the trunk of the car, so I didn’t see it. It’s probably food. It’s definitely food.

The car comes to a stop by the side of the road. The bench overlooking the town lies empty as expected, giving absolutely nobody a good view of the landscape ahead, still as beautiful as it was a couple of days ago. Nobody really comes here. In some way, the fact that it’s so empty is good for us because it means we can do whatever, but it’s also a bit sad at the same time.

The moment the doors are unlocked, Michael opens his and steps out. “We’re fucking _here_ , bitches!” He goes to the trunk of the car and opens it, taking something out. I swear I can see Joshua cringe a little at how fast Michael opened the door to the trunk. Tyler fiddles with his seatbelt for a bit before Joshua reaches over and unbuckles it for him, being the next one to step out. Brett leaves the car next and leaves the door open for me. Joshua is the last one to exit. Tyler and Brett are already walking to the bench while Joshua goes to the trunk to check on whatever it is that Michael is doing. Since it’s a party for me and Tyler put something in the trunk he didn’t want me to see, I decide to go to the bench as well.

“Hey, come sit here!” Brett pats an empty spot between himself and Tyler. “It’s nice and freezing cold!”

“Don’t just tell him that…” Tyler scratches the back of his head.

“Well, like everything else here, right?” I chuckle, sitting at the spot. “It’s not really weird for things to be cold so close to a lake in Ontario of all places.” I turn to look at the lake, its surface lightly wavy as it reflects sunlight. “It’s got to be sending us the cold directly. I can almost feel it looking at us…”

Tyler grimaces. “Stop saying such weird things…”

“Yeah, don’t be a fucking art freak, James.” Michael snorts as he walks up to us… six pack of beer in hand. He rests it on a side of the bench. He grabs a bottle for himself and looks at us. “You all want something to drink too?”

“I don’t really drink, sorry!” Brett nods at him.

“I don’t like how beer tastes…” Tyler blushes and looks away in embarrassment.

“Oh, I don’t drink, sorry.”

Michael snorts and arches an eyebrow at our denial. “Buncha fucking stiffs.” He hits the edge of the bottle against the bench in such a way that he makes the metallic cap fly off, before catching it on his other hand. He takes a large swig from the bottle, puts the six pack on the ground, and unceremoniously drops his weight on the bench, next to Tyler, slinging an arm over his shoulder. “Oh well, more for me.”

Tyler jumps a little at the sudden touch. “Y-yeah! Since you like it so much you must be happy!”

“Gonna get a lot fucking happier after a few, dude.” Another snort.

Something is presented to me, and I realize Joshua stepped in front of me. He’s offering me a box of takeout and a fork. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks!” I grab it and open it. As the smell of the fried rice hits me, I realize how hungry I am. I don’t really wait for the others before digging in, realizing it’s probably rude but… knowing none of us really cares about that.

“Mm. I didn’t know what else to get, and didn’t really have the time to cook a proper meal, so this will have to do. I’m sorry.” Joshua is already handing Tyler and Michael identical boxes to mine.

“No, it’s fine! Really, I like this.”

Joshua pauses for a bit while opening his box and digging in – a feat made a bit more difficult because he’s standing up instead of sitting down. Since there’s no more space on the bench, I guess he just prefers to stay standing. “That’s good, then.” He gives a half-smile before bringing a forkful of food up to his mouth.

“Could use some kimchi, though.” Michael puts the beer bottle between his thighs before eating.

“There’s no Korean restaurants at the supermarket to order from, only Chinese and Japanese. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for that shit, geez.” Michael groans. “Should’ve just brought some of my own, then.”

Joshua falls silent and continues eating.

“I’m glad at least we have Japanese places here…” Tyler speaks up next. “That sort of thing is hard to get in tiny towns like ours, so I’m glad that we have a restaurant like that in the supermarket.”

“And I’m glad it’s there too!” Brett smiles. “Pretty damn delicious every time I eat there after a shift!”

“Oh! Do you have any favorite dishes?”

“This uh… man, I don’t know what it’s called, but it’s like a pork cutlet that’s breaded? Tom cuts?”

“ _Tonkatsu._ ” Tyler’s pronunciation is flawless, as expected.

“Yeah, that! Hey, I’m just a regular dude! Don’t gotta embarrass me for my bad pronunciation, haha!” Brett chuckles.

“Ah, no, I’m sorry! I just order that a lot too, so I know how to pronounce it very well…”

“And you also speak the damn language.” Michael pipes up, food in his mouth, before washing it down with beer. “You converse with the cooks and waiters often, dude.”

“Hey, stop that!” Tyler sinks in his chair as Michael laughs.

I turn to Brett. “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t speak another language either. I know Michael has Korean, Ty has Japanese, and Josh has Spanish, but I’ve really just got regular old English to fend for myself with…” I give him a soft smile.

“Hehe, thanks! But I didn’t actually feel bad about it, don’t worry.”

“…though I feel even I could have pronounced that better.” I scratch the back of my head.

“A-aha… ouch…” Brett looks away, dramatically acting like he’s hurt, and I laugh. Tyler turns to look at him and I can feel him jump like he’s wondering something went wrong, before he realizes what happened.

“Try some Korean pronunciation on for size, see how it goes, dude.” Michael smirks. “Japanese is really child’s play compared to it.”

Tyler nods. “Yes, I’ve looked at Korean a bit, and there’s… a lot more sounds in it, and they’re harder to say, honestly.”

“But you also speak the language a bit slower, so I guess that makes up for it? I don’t fucking know.” Michael takes a sip out of his beer, finishing it off. “I’m studying to become a fucking professor and I’m still fuzzy on some details. Languages are hard.”

Brett snorts. “It sure sounds hard to speak more than one! I can hardly speak English some days, and it’s my first one, so I dunno how you do it!”

“Eh, in fairness, English isn’t my first language either. My parents taught me Korean first, you know. I picked up on English as well ‘cause, well, it’s Canada.” Michael grabs another beer bottle and, between his legs, he opens it against the bench like the first one. He takes a sip as the cap falls on his lap. “It was a mess the first few years, when I was a kid, but whatever.”

“Oh, so you were just raised bilingual, then.” I finish my meal. “I had a few classmates like that in school.”

“Bet you did, bud. Toronto and all.” Michael smirks. “Learning another language later in life is really where it’s at. Shit’s hard. Big boy Tyler over here would know.”

Tyler scratches the back of his head, blushing. “I mean… it wasn’t _that_ hard, because I also had my video games and anime to practice…”

“You’re not like one of those freaks that speaks Japanese like he’s in an anime, are you?” Michael arches an eyebrow.

“N-no! I wouldn’t dream of doing that, it’s so uncomfortable…”

Brett pipes up next. “…one of those what?”

“It’s… I’ll tell you later.” I smile at him. “I had classmates like that, and it was… bad.”

“Though, speaking of second languages, Joshua’s second language is English, isn’t it?” Brett crosses his arms. “His country speaks Spanish, so he had to learn English later in life, right?”

“Yeah, that makes sense…” Strange that Joshua isn’t confirming it or anything.

As I look to my right, I realize why – since he just returned from the car, and is holding something in his hands. “Michael, please stand up.”

“Huh. Aight.”

As Michael gets up, Joshua puts what he’s holding on the bench, and I realize that it’s a cake. It’s small, and the frosting isn’t entirely even, but it’s a cake for sure. Tyler bashfully chuckles as we all get to see it. Surely he made it. It’s enough for all five of us. Joshua then pulls out a knife – a cake knife – and some disposable plastic plates. He cuts the cake into six slices and puts one slice each on four plates – one for Brett, one for Michael, one for Tyler, and one for himself.

“Six?” Michael arches an eyebrow.

“It’s exceedingly hard to cut a circle into an odd number of portions while making them all have the same size. At least, without a protractor. Since this is for James, I figured he could have two slices.”

A devious smile appears on Michael’s lips. “Alright. Makes sense.” He starts eating his slice of cake. I wonder what he thought of. Joshua hands me my first slice of cake on another plate, and the second one lies on the dish.

“Hey, er…” Tyler twiddles his thumbs, smiling. “Remember how I said I was getting into baking? I decided to look into how to make a cake for all of us, for today, so… here it is. I hope you like it…”

The slice of cake on my lap definitely doesn’t look professionally made, but it looks fluffy and spongy anyways. I sink my fork into it and take a bite… it’s pretty good. “Mm! Yeah, I like it.”

“Heheh…” Tyler’s smile widens.

“Yeah, seconding that thought!” Brett’s eating as well.

“Thirding it.” Michael’s got some cake inside his mouth as he speaks. “I’m a linguist, I can say ‘thirding’ if I want.”

The cake is gone before long, but Tyler looks elated at the fact everyone enjoyed his creation. Setting my plate to a side, I get up and go to Joshua’s car. I find the easel, canvas, pencil and paints in the open trunk, and I pull them out, before setting up facing the landscape. I can feel everyone regarding me curiously. “You flexing your art degree before us?” Michael speaks, on his third beer. “I can start talking about languages too.”

“Weren’t you already talking about languages?” It _was_ the conversation before this.

“Fuck you.”

I finish setting up and look at the landscape, as chatter continues behind me indistinct. Even if not a whole lot happens in the town proper, it’s still pretty to look at from a distance. It’s small enough that you can see it all from up here, the rows of small buildings broken up only by slightly taller apartment buildings organized neatly into a few streets. I don’t think about it often, but barring the town and the lake that’s less than ten minutes walking from the town, there’s really nothing here. The forests are dense and dark, and you can’t really see anything in there. Maybe a clearing here or there, and I think I can spot some buildings in the clearings, but there’s really nothing here.

Maybe landscape art is a good creative output for me. The pencil sketch on the canvas is coming along nicely – the problem will be rendering all of this in paint, because I really want to capture the beauty of the lake.

The lake…

“It’s coming along well.” Joshua’s baritone behind me catches my attention. I turn to look and he’s standing with his arms crossed behind me, looking at my canvas.

“Oh, thank you.”

“You’re really capturing everything I can see about the town from here. I was a bit hesitant when you said you wanted to paint the place, but this looks like it’s gonna come well. The four years of art school were worthwhile.”

“Thanks, Josh. I’ll really try to make it look neat. It’s not something that I need for work, but I like to make things look pretty anyways.”

“Mm.” He pushes his glasses up. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” With that, he turns and walks to the rest of the group, which is incredibly engaged discussing things.

I finish my sketch and look at my paints before deciding that I probably shouldn’t try to start painting here, since it will take ages to dry. My feet hurt a bit from how long I’ve been standing here, too… and, as my mind wanders, I catch the conversation.

“Okay.” That’s Michael. “Okay. But you want me to actually rant about languages now? You can just… not fucking learn a language and do the shit we’ve done before, like…”

Turning to face them, I see Tyler nodding slowly, still not sure what Michael is talking about, evidently. Brett is just finishing his slice of cake – how long did it take him to eat it?

“You remember that time we all went to Sudbury, to this karaoke bar?”

Tyler’s eyes go wide before he blushes. “Y-yeah…”

“Fuck are you blushing for? Anyways, like… you buncha fucking weebs decided to put on some songs in Japanese, you remember?”

“That’s… why I’m blushing…”

Brett’s eyes light up. “Oh, yeah! I didn’t get a single word but I liked reading the lyrics! It was a great idea, Ty!”

Tyler just groans, burying his face in his hands.

“Aw, come on, it wasn’t that bad! You’re a pretty good singer too! You sang one in Japanese, and I did as well, and…”

“I sure didn’t.” Michael shrugs and goes back to his beer.

“Joshua. Joshua sang another one, I think.”

“Oh. Right.” Looking off into the distance, Michael finishes his beer. Seems like he’s saving the remaining three.

Tyler blinks. “Oh, I remember that… he was pretty good too.”

“Anyways, since we’re talking about shit we’ve done in the past, how about that time we went to that swimming pool?”

Brett bursts out laughing. “Oh, I wanted to try out my new swimsuit, but it didn’t really fit well… man, that sucked!”

“I still feel it looked good…” Tyler rubs his arm.

“You looked good as well, Ty.” I speak, trying to say it gently.

He looks away. “Thanks…”

“Yeah, specially when you slipped into the pool.” Michael cackles. “Oh, man, that was _the shit._ Man, I’m glad nothing happened to you, but the fucking _splash…_ we were soaked!”

Tyler punches Michael’s shoulder, nearly knocking him off the bench as he continues to laugh. He crosses his arms and look away, huffing and puffing.

Brett finishes laughing and looks at my canvas. “Yo, dude, did you draw that?”

I look back. “Yeah, just now.”

“That’s so cool! It looks just like the town!”

Tyler and Michael turn to my canvas as well. I move to a side to let them take a better look, and I try to suppress the instinct to gesture towards it like I’m at an art presentation.

“Oh wow…” Tyler’s looking at it closely. “That’s a very good degree you got, I see…”

I scratch the back of my head. “Well… yeah, but going into an art school you need to already have an art mind, if that makes any sense? Learning the technique helps, and a lot. But you need the drive in the first place.”

“Got a shitload of drive, huh.” Even in his lightly buzzed state, Michael’s still admiring what I did. It feels good. “I need to ask you to paint my walls sometime. Wait, no, that’s not what I mean, fuck. Uh. Fuck, whatever, you get me.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“So, you learned all this art.” Brett claps his hands.

“Yeah?”

“Did you also learn love, though?” He arches an eyebrow and smirks. “Any girlfriend you’re hiding from us, dude? Some artsy girl that was a classmate, dyed bob cut, always a pencil with her or something?” He wiggles his brows.

“You can’t just ask him that, Brett…” Tyler frowns.

Yeah.

About that.

I never told any of them, I realize, that I’m gay now. I don’t know all of the details of how sexuality works, but I discovered that I for sure liked men instead of women. It took a few rounds of experimentation with roommates, but once it clicked, I realized why it was that whenever I tried asking out a girl it always ended in disaster. I guess we all realize this sort of thing at different points in life, but it’s still a bit embarrassing to think about.

We’re all having a good time, so I guess it’s a good time to tell them now, since we’re together. “Yeah, about that…”

Brett’s smirk drops as he realizes I might be getting serious. Michael regards me with a curious expression. Tyler turns to me, eyes going wide.

“Since you brought that up, I guess I might as well tell you all now, yeah? Something that happened while I was at school, that I never told you all about.”

A smirk appears in the corner of Michael’s lips – maybe he can guess what I’m going to say, being gay himself. Is the gaydar a thing? Brett speaks. “No way. You got engaged to some girl!?”

“Well… no.” I take a deep breath. Might as well address them all directly. “Michael… Ty… Brett… J…”

I blink.

Where’s Joshua?

I look around a bit. He was with is just now, so where did he go? Tyler picks up on what I’m doing and looks around as well, obviously only now realizing Joshua left as well. Brett has the realization next. “Wait, huh? Josh? Buddy?”

Michael just raises an eyebrow lazily.

It doesn’t take me very long to spot Joshua – he’s a few feet away, leaning over the railing, looking at the town, separate from the group. Smoking. Completely tuning us out.

“…fucking again?” Michael leans back on his chair.

“Huh? What do you mean again?”

“I mean _again._ I mean he does this shit all the time. We can all be hanging out together and before we realize it he’s just… gone.” It looks like Michael is getting annoyed. I can see Tyler shrinking… maybe something deeper is going on here.

I turn away from the group and walk towards Joshua. Standing here, right next to him, the group is indeed outside earshot. Strange. “Hey, Josh?”

His ears twitch when he hears his name – I wonder if he even noticed me approaching, with his lion senses. He takes a drag out of his cigarette before turning to me. “Yeah?”

There’s a few questions in my mind, but… “Since when do you smoke?”

Slowly, he looks at the cigarette between his fingers, a neutral expression on his face. “Couple of years, about. You never noticed, I’m assuming.”

This is new to me. “But why?”

“I don’t know why I picked the habit up. It just relaxes me, I suppose.” Another drag. He blows the smoke away from me. “Aren’t all art majors constantly smoking one thing or another? It’s almost like you’re shocked here. I’d have assumed you smoke as well.”

“No, I never picked it up, because it’s very bad for you, and… it does nothing for me. So you…”

He looks directly into my eyes and, somehow, I feel like I won’t get any more information out of him.

“Never mind. Why did you come here to be away from the group, though?”

A pause. “Why not?”

“…huh?” What?

“I mean, _why not?_ ” He arches an eyebrow. “You’re all having a good time, talking with each other and catching up.” Another drag. As he lets the smoke out – above and away – he sighs. “There’s no real point to me being there, I feel. I’d just end up bringing the group’s mood down anyways.”

I don’t know what to say to that. That isn’t the kind of thought someone organically develops – someone else must have put it in his head at some point. That, plus apologizing yesterday just for having a drier personality… what is happening here?

I shake my head. No, that’s irrelevant. “No. You’re coming with me and spending time with the group, alright?”

He arches his eyebrows in mild surprise. “Huh.” With that, he puts the cigarette in his mouth, takes in a deep breath – burning out a lot of the cigarette… then puts it out on the railing, before flicking the butt at the nearby trash can. I notice it’s almost overflowing. I wonder when was the last time anyone picked its contents up. “Alright then.”

I sigh, grabbing him by the wrist and almost dragging him back to the group like a child. Brett is looking directly at us, Tyler is twiddling his thumbs and apprehensively looking at the ground, and Michael looks… very annoyed.

“So.” I clap my hands once we’re all there. Joshua crosses his arms. Still, the tension is palpable in the air.

Surely Brett feels it, because he speaks next. “Hey, Josh, come sit with us! James wanted to tell us something!”

Joshua arches an eyebrow and sits on the bench. It’s clear that he’s wider than I am, because of how Brett has to scoot over to the side a bit to let him sit where I used to sit.

“Alright, now that we’re all here, let’s continue!” Infectious good cheer, because it gets Tyler a bit more relaxed as well. “Just wanna say that, whatever it is that you’re gonna tell us, you’ll have a lot of fun living here! Living in New Blackden’s great!”

Then, Joshua mutters something that I don’t quite catch.

Brett seems to not catch it either. “Huh? Something happen, Josh?”

He sighs. “It’s n—”

“Yeah, Joshua. Bet we all want to hear what you wanna say.” Michael’s leaning forward on the bench now, looking directly at Joshua – though it’s more like he’s trying to burn a hole into the man’s skull, from the intensity of his gaze, over Tyler.

Tyler closes his eyes, grimaces, and twiddles his thumbs harder. All these reactions are way too organized. Something like this has happened before, right?

Joshua looks at Michael with a blank expression. Then, at Tyler, at Brett… and at me. I don’t know what it is that he catches in my expression, but he looks down, leaning forward on the bench and resting his elbows on his knees. “…not fun.” I catch the last couple of words there, but not the rest of the sentence.

“What was that?” Michael’s almost demanding a repeat.

Joshua takes a deep breath. Brett begins bobbing his leg up and down, suddenly looking anxious. Tyler grips his left arm with his right hand, squeezing. Something bad is going to happen. I don’t know if it’s something he saw in me, but it’s like Joshua feels obligated to speak.

“…Brett said that James will have a lot of fun living here, and that living in the town is great. I disagreed. I feel it’s not actually fun.” His voice is flat and tense.

Michael’s gaze narrows and his brow furrows. He gets up from the bench. “…and what the fuck do _you_ know? If fucking Brett is saying it’s fun, who are you to say he’s wrong? Or me? Tell me, Joshua.” His voice is harsher than before.

Joshua pauses for a few seconds, closing his eyes. “Because you hardly live here in the first place.”

“… _what?_ ”

“You hardly live here in the first place. Tyler never leaves his house and works from home, Brett is leaving town all the time and meeting with people from outside town for parties and things like those, and you’re always either studying in Sudbury or meeting with guys there. You hardly live here. I’m the only one that actually lives and works within the town and mingles only with the locals on the regular, and I can tell you, with full certainty, that it’s not fun. Because I experience the town.”

Michael clenches his fists in anger – I can’t help feeling that he’s going to dig his claws into his skin. “And _what_ of it, dipshit!?” He’s fully yelling now. “What the _fuck_ is your problem if we cope with our shitty fucking town life in different ways while you sit on your ass and simply take it!? I know living here sucks shit! What is it, Joshua? What is it, you motherfucker!?” He’s barking loudly at him, and it’s like every word from his mouth makes Tyler feel worse and Brett feel more anxious… but Joshua doesn’t react, directing him the same neutral expression he has on all the time.

Like he’s used to it.

“Is what _you_ do better? Are _you_ better!? _Is that fucking it!? **Do you feel better than us!?**_ ”

Joshua hardly reacts. He opens his mouth to answer… and says nothing. He just turns away from Michael, looking down and in the opposite direction, with an inscrutable expression on his face. He doesn’t want to talk. That, or he doesn’t know what to do either.

It’s like the silence sets Michael off completely. He’s yelling so loud that it’s starting to hurt my ears. “I… _fucking…_ knew it! You disgusting piece of shit! You fully turned your back on us! Fucking…” Michael reaches for one of the empty beer bottles and slams it hard into the ground. It cracks and breaks – I flinch. “ ** _Fucking shit on a stick!!!_** ”

He grabs his remaining beers and storms off, down the road, in the direction of the town.

Tyler gets up after a few moments. He looks like he’s about to cry. “I… I’m… I’m sorry, but I… think I’m going home…” He slowly starts walking off.

I realize how horrible Brett’s state is – his hands are trembling and he’s bobbing his leg up and down frenetically. He gets up. “Wait! I’m… Look, man, I’m sorry about the party, but I think Tyler needs someone to walk with him…”

Is he sure he doesn’t need someone to walk with him as well?

Still, Brett catches up to Tyler and puts his arm around the bear’s shoulder. I think I spot Tyler’s shoulders trembling – is he crying?

It feels like all the air just left my lungs. What the hell happened here?

Joshua is sitting there with his face in his hands, breathing slowly. “Josh…”

He slowly looks up and stares into the horizon. “…the sun’s going to set in about an hour. We should go home.” He gets up from his sitting position, still not looking at me. “Make sure you don’t forget anything.” Somehow, he sounds more dead than he used to already.

With that, he starts picking up everything – the discarded plates and glass bottles, the cardboard boxes, some of them with a bit of uneaten food in them. He puts them all in the trash. He turns back to the mess of the broken glass bottle… then bends down and begins picking the shards up.

“Wait—Joshua—”

“Hm?” He looks up at me, broken glass in his hands.

“Don’t just… pick that up with your bare hands! You’re going to cut yourself! Just leave it there!”

He slowly looks down at his hands. “…it’s whatever. I know what I’m doing.” He finishes picking up the tiny bits, grabs the bigger parts with his other hand, and then puts them in the trash as well. He returns to the easel, grabs the canvas by the edges, hands it to me, and folds the easel, before taking it back to the trunk of the car.

I look down at the sketch on the canvas. New Blackden, huh?

I don’t even want to finish this anymore.

I walk to the car and toss it in the trunk, but I don’t really want to look at it either. I hop into the passenger’s seat, Joshua turns the car on, and we drive away.

…

The drive back towards Joshua’s house is peaceful, if completely silent. He stares straight ahead and doesn’t talk, but I don’t want to really talk about anything either. I swear I spot Michael in the distance, looking at us, when Joshua drives into his garage. If Joshua spotted him, he’s choosing to not say anything about it. That, or it wasn’t actually him.

The garage door closes and he turns the car off, unlocking the doors, taking off his seatbelt, opening the door, and walking into the house. I try to follow him, but he walks fast when he wants to. As I reach him, in his kitchen, he grabs the bottle of vodka he brought out a couple of days ago – the one he used to make my cocktail – and…

…uncaps it and drinks all the contents. In a single gulp. That’s half a bottle in his system now, and he downed it like it was just water. He harshly puts it on the bar after that, before sitting at a chair.

That doesn’t look healthy. “Joshua?”

He coughs. “What?”

I really don’t know how to follow up on what I’m seeing.

“Look, I’m sorry for how that went. I shouldn’t have opened my fucking mouth.”

“What?”

“The… explaining my thought.”

Is he really blaming _himself_ for what happened? “What are you talking about, Josh? That wasn’t…”

“No, it was. I could have refused to say anything, but having your gaze on me, somehow I felt like I should explain myself. I usually just stay quiet, but this time was different… and you see how it went.”

So it’s happened several times? This mess?

“Didn’t you literally this morning tell me that it’s just something that happens and you don’t really have control over it?”

He falls silent, looking down. I really can’t tell what his expression is giving me – there’s definitely guilt there, and maybe a sense of sadness. Maybe anger. He’s incredibly hard to read.

He doesn’t answer me. I sit at the bar, looking at him, but he doesn’t move – his breathing just gets heavier each time, but he stays in the same position.

“…me.” He mumbles something that I can’t parse.

“What?”

“I think the… vodka’s starting to get to me.” He takes a deep breath. His face definitely looks a bit more red. He gets up, tosses the empty bottle into the trash, and leans against the wall. “I’m gonna sleep it off on the couch. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, it’s… it’s your house.” I’d rather have him not do something like this in the first place, but at least he isn’t doing anything stupid.

He pulls out his phone, hastily types something in it, and puts it in his pocket again. “Okay.” He walks off in the direction of the living room, stopping before he leaves the kitchen. “And… again, I’m sorry.” I can’t tell what face he’s making as he says that, because he’s looking away from me.

A minute passes after he leaves before I decide to follow him. When I enter the living room, he’s indeed there – the lights are off and it’s getting dark outside, but I can still see him. He’s lying on the same couch I slept on, splayed out, and the jacket he was wearing is now on the floor. From how stable his breathing looks, it seems like he’s already asleep… I don’t know how drunk he must have been for that to happen so quickly.

I sit on the chair closest to him. And I don’t know what to feel.

I don’t know what happened when I went away, for this to become a common occurrence, apparently. It’s been about a year since I regularly talked to any of these people, because my last year really ate away all my free time, and it looks like things… changed while I wasn’t here. For the worse, and badly. I knew Tyler had some problems with social awkwardness, but apparently he can hardly form a sentence in public anymore, without being paralyzed and shutting down. I’m not even sure what is going on with Brett, but the fact that he’s still living in the same shitty apartment he used to live in when I first moved into town sets off some red flags in me – as well as all his trembling and leg bobbing. Michael… he used to have a bit of a strong temper, but I had never seen him fly into these aggressive, screaming fits, specially not ones where he ended up attacking other people like he did today – that was really uncomfortable to watch, and though I wanted to tell him to stop, there was nothing I could do, because he’s a lot stronger than me… and I hate the fact that _that_ is a consideration I have in mind. And Joshua?

I look at him sleeping next to me.

I don’t know what to even start feeling about him. He hardly feels like a person anymore. He’s so incredibly quiet and dry, hardly talking, that it doesn’t feel natural. I don’t know if what he said about bringing the mood down is something he was told and he took it to heart. The way he just disappeared while hanging out with us and none of us noticed… bothers me as well. None of us noticed, and apparently it happens often.

I feel a horrible pit in my stomach. So much has changed while I was gone, and it was only a year. It feels like our little group is fraying at the edges, and everyone has gotten a lot worse. I feel… sad. Sad, and angry, because I doubt I can do anything about it. I feel like an outsider looking in – and it hurts, because these people are my friends.

**_Your friends._ **

I close my eyes. I get up, grab the blanket I’ve been sleeping with, and toss it on Joshua. From the way he lightly stirs as I do it, it seems he liked that. I can’t even bring myself to feel happy about that. I close the curtains, sit back down on the chair… and start dozing off myself. Maybe sleeping this off won’t be so bad.

…

I awaken after a while. I think. I’m not sure if I even fell asleep or not – if I had any dream, I forgot it completely. I try to focus my gaze on the clock on the wall… it’s been about an hour, so I must have fallen asleep. Joshua isn’t there anymore.

I walk into the kitchen, and there he is. He’s cooking something. A plate and a cup, both empty, are already set on the bar… I’m assuming for me. I take a seat. “Hey.” My voice is a bit hoarser than I’d expect it to be.

“Mm.” Joshua uncaps a bottle of _something_ and sprays it on the frying pan in front of himself. He moves it around while occasionally mixing. After a few moments, he turns off the heat, turns to me, and starts shoveling the contents of the frying pan into my plate – fried rice. There’s rice, some bits of chicken in some sauce, and a vegetable stir-fry, all mixed together. Half the contents of the frying pan go into my plate. “Eat up.”

“Thanks…” I grab the fork next to the plate and dig in. “Oh, it’s… delicious.” It’s truly good, but the mood is awkward, so I don’t know what else to say.

“I tried. It’s what I wanted to make for our little meeting, but I didn’t find the time to do it. Or the energy.” Pause. “Considering how it went, maybe it’s for the best. I don’t like it when my food goes to waste.”

It’s better than the takeout we had at lunch, for sure. Joshua opens the fridge and pulls out a jug of what looks like ice tea, before pouring some into my empty cup. He eats from the frying pan directly, without pouring some for himself – he’s going to get thirsty, but I doubt he cares.

We eat in silence. It’s very good. I think I’m going to miss these kinds of meals.

Once I’m done, he grabs the plate and cup from in front of me and washes them. He moves efficiently and wordlessly, but it’s not like I have anything to really converse about right now. What a mess of a day.

“…so.” After he washes and dries his hands, he moves to stand opposite of me, on the other side of the bar. “You had your visits yesterday, you met with everyone on Saturday, and you got to meet with them again today.” He pushes his glasses up and scratches his cheek.

“Yeah?”

“Have you already decided who you want to stay with?”

_Ain’t that a great question._


End file.
